


Corollary of Parallel And Divergence

by Ashbright



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU where Stiles moved away as a child and came back as an adult, Allison Argent & Derek Hale Friendship, Alpha Scott McCall, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Stiles, Beta Derek Hale, Black smith Derek Hale, Deputy Stiles Stilinski, Derek and Stiles are Mates, Derek was never an Alpha, Explicit Sexual Content, Happy Ending, M/M, Misunderstandings, Romance, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Scott killed Peter and became Alpha, Secret Relationship, Sheriff Scott McCall, Switching, Werewolf Mates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-12-12
Packaged: 2018-01-16 19:25:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1359052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashbright/pseuds/Ashbright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles, unaware of the supernatural, returns to Beacon Hills and his best friend Scott after years away.  Derek, one of Scott's housemates, and Stiles fall hard and fast for each other.  Both have pasts and secrets, but they both find their relationship worth fighting for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The return of the prodigal

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed by K.B. who really knows her job.  
> In this story, events generally follow canon to the end of season 2, with the difference that, _without needing to impress Stiles_ , Derek let Scott try to regain his humanity by killing Peter. It didn't work, and Scott became a very unprepared Alpha who did not have the benefit of Stiles's support to help him. Things did calm down in Beacon Hills after the Alpha pack, with no more supernatural shenanigans, just life (No Darach, no nemeton, no re-Pete). Then Stiles comes back.

Derek’s Kindle went blank. Shit. The low battery warning had come on five minutes ago and he’d forgotten about it as soon as he’d clicked it off. He put down the slim pad and stretched. 

The room was quiet. Well, not quiet, peaceful. There was some hissing and occasional popping from the fire in the stone fireplace, soft clicking sounds from Allison’s knitting needles, and the solemn tic-tock of the standing grandfather clock. If he paid attention, he could hear the wind passing though the branches of the trees outside, the purr of the furnace downstairs, the humming of the refrigerator in the kitchen. The low beating of Lydia’s heart over in the library, that of Allison’s, slightly faster, and the hummingbird-like drumming of the heartbeat of the child she carried soothed the wolf side of him.

 

He looked over at her. The arms of her wheelchair were in the down position, giving her some elbowroom. Her lips were moving quietly as she counted her stitches. She had circles under her eyes, but her skin was clear, her hair glossy and the weight her pregnancy had helped her gain had softened her usually gaunt features. She laid her knitting down on her lap, clicked the chair’s arms back into position, braced herself on them to lift her body up and arch her back. She sat back down, automatically checking the lay of her catheter and, apparently sensing his gaze, looked up and smiled at him.

 

“I should lie down. My ankles are swelling,” she says ruefully.

 

He grinned. He hadn’t commented when she’d asked him to transfer her to the chair earlier, because she would do as she pleased, anyway. He just rolled his eyes.

“Oh, shut up,” she said, her cheeks dimpling.

He chuckled. He got up and placed her ergonomic pillow against the arm of couch. She had rolled up her knitting, something soft and yellow and he put it carefully in the round wicker basket with the other balls of pastel wools. He took her in his arms as if she weighed nothing, and she put her arms around his neck, placing a quick peck on his cheek.

“You need a shave,” she said.

He shrugged and placed her gently on the couch, slipping a bolster under her ankles. He automatically checked that there were no kinks in her catheter and handed her her laptop. He made sure her water bottle was within reach and spread a large pashmina scarf over her legs.

She settled herself and smiled at him again. “Thanks.”

He placed an extra log on the embers and looked at the dancing flames for a moment, leaning his shoulder on the mantel. Then his eyes wandered to the many pictures in the frames crowding it: Melissa holding hands with a much younger Scott and his best childhood friend; Erica and Boyd at the New Year’s eve party right after they were turned; Isaac, Jackson and Scott laughing, in their Lacrosse uniforms, their sophomore year; Scott and Allison, the day of their wedding, with Lydia and himself; Allison and Lydia, looking gorgeous, the day of their graduation; Lydia and Carter, the day of their wedding, looking like models in the photo of a bridal magazine; Russell’s graduation picture, from the year before and Charlotte on the back of a horse two summers ago, a month after the bite had cured her severe type I diabetes.

He heard the cruiser when it took the turn off the main road just as Lydia came into the room.

“Do you guys want tea?” she asked, her heels click-clacking on the tiles as she entered the kitchen. Why she chose to wear two-inch stilettos and a tailored dress on her day off was one of those wonderful Lydia mysteries.

“Apple blossom, please,” Allison requested, and she smiled as she heard the crunching of gravel under the cruiser’s tires, as Scott pulled closer to the house. 

“Can you start some coffee? Scott’s home.”

Their Alpha came in so soon after they heard the car door slam, he must have run up the porch stairs. He had a huge smile on his face as he went and kissed his wife.

“You’re not gonna believe this, Lydia! Guess who’s coming back to Beacon Hills?” he asked as he took off his gun, removed the magazine and popped out the round from the chamber.

Lydia raises an eyebrow at him. “Who?”

Scott placed the gun in the enameled container on the kitchen island that said ‘Flour’ and the bullets in the one that said ‘Coffee’. “Stiles Stilinski! He is out of the service and he’s coming here!”

Lydia looked up. “Oh, my god! For good?”

“Yes. He decided against signing on for another four years. He’d e-mailed me a while back, asking if there were any vacancies in the department, and we still haven’t replaced Sherman, so I told him yes. He send me his CV and, well, he’s certainly more than qualified, so I told him he had a job if he wanted it as long as he cleared the requirements. He took me up on it, took care of the red tape and will be here Wednesday night.” Scott grinned happily. “I can’t believe it.”

 

Though it had been a long time since he’d left Beacon Hills, they had all heard Scott reminiscing nostalgically about their childhood. They had been as close as brothers growing up and it had broken Scott’s heart when he had moved.

“How long has it been, since you last saw him?” asked Allison, smiling at his enthusiasm.

“Almost… twelve years? We were fourteen when he left, last year of middle school. I don’t think he’s even been back in the States the last five or six years.”

Lydia came around the kitchen island carrying a tray, with tea for Allison and herself, and a cup of freshly brewed coffee for Scott.

“Thanks,” he said, appreciatively. “We were inseparable growing up, you know? After he left, I was such a loner. We e-mailed a lot the first few months, but then he was sent to that military academy for high school and the students’ outside contacts were regulated. By the time I got bit, we were only in touch about once a month. He was in some kind of accelerated program dealing with software design and other advanced stuff, half college prep or college credit or whatever, and I never told him about what happened, so after that, it became hard to find things to say. You know what it was like, then. What did I have to talk about throughout high school with someone who didn’t know about werewolves?” He smiled at Allison. “I basically just talked about you…” He chuckled. “I’m sure he got really sick of hearing about how I’d found my soul-mate, and how perfect she was.”

He moved the bolster out of the way and sat on the couch putting Allison’s feet on his lap. “It’s going to be weird to see him again. We were so close… It’s only been a couple of e-mails a year for a long time now.” He turned to Lydia. “He called this morning. He sounds exactly the same.”

“Only you would consider that a good thing. The rest of us…” Lydia rolled her eyes.

“Why? What was he like?” Allison asked her best friend.

“Big brain, big mouth, and no filters _whatsoever_ between the two. Geeky. Annoying! Ooh! my god, so annoying. Never, ever… quiet. Always moving, knocking things over, talking. Really, really smart, though. His mouth got him constantly in trouble. And he was _always_ around, driving me crazy but…” She stopped and made one of her patented Lydia faces. “I kind of missed him when he left.”

“He was madly in love with Lydia,” Scott explained. He teased her, “He was always around because he was stalking you. He had a ‘Lydia seduction plan.’ He said you were the only person he knew who was smarter than him, therefore the only girl he could ever consider marrying. He gave himself ten years to make you fall in love with him.” He smiled at her wickedly. “He asked all about you, actually.”

She looked at him with a smirk. “Too bad you told me was gay, what? Ten years ago?”

Scott looked disappointed. “I forgot I told you. Oh, well… I am thinking of asking him to stay here while he looks for a place. What do you guys think?”

Derek clenched his teeth. A stranger. In the house. One that didn’t know about werewolves… And who was never quiet. But his Alpha radiated excitement about it.

“You’re planning on telling him?” asked Lydia. 

Derek wanted to know the answer to that as well.

Scott shrugged. “It was so easy talking to him today, like he’d never left. He’s gonna work with me. Unless he has really changed, I can’t imagine not being really good friends with him again. I mean, it’s Stiles! So… Probably, yes, eventually. We can see how it goes, but…” He looked at Derek, the only other wolf present.

As the Alpha, Scott did not have for to ask for Derek’s opinion, and he certainly did not need to seek his permission. And yet Scott always checked in with Derek and seeked his advice, even though he knew his deferential attitude towards the older wolf had a weird impact on the pack dynamics. Scott could not help it, and they’d all learned to roll with it.

Derek could feel how excited Scott was at the prospect of Stiles’s visit, at the thought of getting his childhood friend back. It could be nice to have another single person in the pack. Russell and Charlotte were single, of course, but they were just kids, Russell eighteen and Charlotte seventeen. Derek shrugged and Scott smiled.

Derek heard Carter’s SUV turn into the long driveway and got up to set the table. Tonight was fish and chips night, which they had established a few weeks after the little English pub in Beacon Hills they all liked had started accepting takeout orders. Carter picked it up on his way home since he passed right by it on his way from his office to Charlotte’s High School. The food would get cold if they waited to eat.

“They’re here?” Allison asked Scott, who nodded. “Oh, thank god! I’m starving.” 

Lydia brought Allison’s chair closer as Scott picked her up. By the time Carter, Russell and Charlotte came in, all four of them were already seated at the dinner table.

Carter cracked up. “Hungry, much?” He put down his briefcase and took off his jacket and tie as the two others placed enough hot fish and chips on large platters to feed at least a dozen. With five wolfs and a pregnant woman at the dinner table, that was about right.

As usual, the meal allowed the pack to catch up, with jokes and laughter thrown in. The warmth and love felt right, reminding Derek of his childhood. 

Since Carter’s architectural firm had won the Beacon Hill Library Rebuilding Project, they were busy with the lay-out plans for the reading rooms, computer rooms and the stacks. 

Between bites, Russell, who was a psych major, talked about his classes at the community college and about his classmates, who were an endless source of material for his wicked humor. 

Charlotte brought in the usual gossip from Beacon Hills High, and Scott had the news from the rest of the town. 

Lydia commented on it all but never shared anything about her own work. Derek wasn’t entirely sure what it was she did for the Whittemore foundation, but then he had no clue what the foundation’s purpose was outside of purely scientific research.

Allison was in high spirits. She was editing a pretty risky romance novel at the moment, which she liked a lot less than her usual work on historical fiction but some of the quotes she shared were real gems, complete with ‘throbbing manhoods’, ‘heaving breasts’ and ‘reckless abandon’.

Derek’s smithy was on the property in what used to be the stables. At the moment, he was forging a front gate on commission. He loved it, but it did not really give him much to share at the dinner table. He hardly ever saw anyone outside the pack, except when the equestrians in town brought in their mounts for farrier service, so he did not have much to say, but he laughed at the jokes and passed the food around.

They all agreed that since the full moon had just passed, it would be fine to host Scott’s friend at the house for a couple of weeks. Russell even offered to move back into his old room and leave the more isolated en-suite above the forge, which he’d moved in after graduation, to their visitor. It would afford them all a bit more breathing space. Since Stiles would be in Beacon Hills only two days later, they all helped out moving Russ’ stuff after dinner.

.o0o.

It was Wednesday. Scott’s friend was arriving by the red eye that night, close to eleven, so Scott decided it was a perfect opportunity, before he had to leave for the airport, to put together the new crib that had arrived that morning. The nursery was on the ground floor, next to Scott and Allison’s bedroom. It had been her study, but she’d hardly ever used it, preferring to work in the family room anyway.

Scott was not the best at home projects, and it didn’t help that all the adults were crowded in the cheery little room, giving him completely unhelpful advice. Scott, sitting on the floor, just laughed and persevered.

“What kind of wood is that?” asked Lydia, running her perfectly manicured hand on the headboard.

“Uh…” said Scott, who had no clue, “morning wood?” He cracked up at his own joke, as did Carter and Derek, though Lydia rolled her eyes.

“Exotic wood, whatever that means,” replied Allison, ignoring her husband.

Derek, who was leaning against the doorjamb, looking into the room heard the floor creak in the corridor behind him. He turned around, expecting Russell, but was faced with a tall grinning stranger with laughter in his eyes and a finger in front of his lips, asking him to stay quiet. It did not take much to figure out Stiles had arrived earlier than scheduled, but Derek was completely mystified he’d missed a stranger entering their home. He had peripherally been aware of the front door opening and closing, and had just assumed it had been Russell coming back from his run. Neither the definitely unusual heartbeat, nor the new scent of the stranger, which he only now took notice of, had raised any alarm.

He took a deep breath. Rain after a long hot day, ivory soap, leather. Scott used Ivory. He himself smelled of leather, from his apron, and the fragrance of a summer’s rain was not discordant at all with their own mingled scents. Though he had just arrived, already Scott’s friend smelled like pack. He was as tall as Derek, lean, with an open expression and large light brown eyes, like amber. Before he could think about it, Derek found himself answering his smile.  
Stiles came to lean on the other side of the wide wheelchair accessible doorway, the position of his crossed arms mirroring Derek’s. No one took notice. Carter and Scott’s werewolf senses remained just as weirdly undisturbed by the man’s presence as his own had been.

“I don’t think the person who wrote these instructions actually spoke English,” commented Scott.

“Need a hand, buddy?” Asked Stiles.

“No, no… I’ll… Stiles!” Scott’s face lit up as he jumped to his feet, and in the next second, he and his long lost friend were hugging.

“Oh, my god, Stiles. It’s so good to see you!”

Stiles seemed to just enjoy the tight hug for a moment, his eyes closed, before answering a little huskily, “Same here, Scott. Same here. You have no idea…”

Leaving his hand on Stiles’s shoulder, Scott turned to the others. “Everybody, this is Stiles. Stiles, this is Allison, Derek and Carter. You remember Lydia, right?”

“You mean Lydia Martin, the standard of female ideal to whom I have always compared every other girl? The reason I switched to men, since every woman fell woefully short or her perfection? That Lydia? Nope, can’t say I remember her at all!” He bent down and kissed the back of Lydia’s hand. “Milady.”

Lydia cracked up, but there was a bit of a blush in her cheeks. “Still a dork, I see,” she said with a smile.

Scott grinned. “Well, this is the perfect excuse for me to postpone the home improvements. How about a beer?” He asked Stiles, walking him out of the room. “or would you like to grab a shower or something?"

“Nah. I actually had time for a quick shower in LA. I’m good. A beer sounds nice.”

“Have you had dinner?”

“No. I haven’t. My intercontinental flight landed really early, so I made it onto the earlier flight to Beacon Hill as a standby. I didn’t want to risk you having already left for the airport when I arrived, so I came straight here.”

“Did you come by taxi? I didn’t hear a car,” asked Scott as they walked into the family room.

“I had the cab drop me off at your gate. I didn’t exactly expect a mile long driveway… You must have a huge piece of land!”

“The land is Derek’s actually, but yeah, it’s pretty big. Plus, we border on the preserve, so the forest goes on and on.” They sat down in the living area, in front of the fire.

“The house looks huge, too.”

“It is. We have eight bedrooms and room for more in the attic. Carter designed it. We all chipped in for the down payment, and we share the mortgage.”

Charlotte came down the stairs, her tight red curls bouncing. “Hi! I’m Charlotte. You must be Stiles. Scott hasn’t shut up about you for two days! I was going to warm up some pizza for my brother and I. You want some?”

“Please. That’d be great.”

Derek got five beers out of the fridge, and orange juice for Allison and the teenagers. 

Stiles mentioned he had come straight from where he’d been stationed, somewhere “in the Middle East”, whatever that meant. He said he only had a small carry-on duffle with him, since he had very few civilian clothes.

“I’m gonna need to get more stuff, I guess.”

“I’ll go shopping with you, if you’d like,” offered Lydia, with an innocent smile.

“Wow. That’s so sweet. Thanks.” Then he noticed the smirks around him. “Why do I feel like I’m missing something?”

“Never mind them, Stiles. Except for Allison, they are all small-minded, petty people, with no fashion sense. I’ll take good care of you.”

“Should I be scared?” Stiles asked Derek, who was the only one not outright laughing.

Derek was surprised to be singled out, but once again, Stiles’s irrepressible smile won him over.

“Shitless,” was his answer, and they exchanged grins.

The front door slammed.

“I’m home!” said Russell, coming in from the foyer. He’d already stripped his hoody and his t-shirt off, and was only wearing his running pants.

“Shoes!” said Lydia.

“Sorry, sorry!” Russell toed off his muddy runners and said, “I’ll clean up my tracts after dinner.”

“Oh, yes you will, mister.”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh! Hey! You must be Stiles!”

“Stiles, this is Russell,” said Lydia. “He is not usually all sweaty and smelly, nor does he make a habit of going around without clothes when there are guests present. Forgive him. He was apparently raised by wolves…”

“How often and how long do you run?” asked Stiles, smiling at Russ.

“Almost every day, ten miles or so. I try for a solid hour.”

“Nice. Would you mind some company?”

“No! That’d be awesome. I played Lacrosse in high school, but the college doesn’t have a team, so I’ve been running to keep in shape until I can transfer to a university that does. I love Lacrosse.”

“Oh my god, Russell! Go shower and put something on!” said Charlotte, bringing in a huge pizza. “I don’t want to have to smell you while eating!”

He cracked up but obediently headed up the stairs, taking three steps at a time.

“Teenage boys are sooo disgusting,” Charlotte commented to Stiles.

“I’m not sure I’m much better. Too many years in the military, you know?”

Charlotte smiled at him sweetly and petted his arm. “No worries. Lydia and I will straightened you out…”

“That’s not reassuring at all, is it,” Stiles said to Derek, as if he counted on him for the truth. Derek grinned and shook his head “no.” Stiles had a nice mouth.

“Oh, boy… What have I gotten myself into?” joked Stiles.

Amazingly, Stiles ate as much of the pizza as the two teenaged wolves, and then accepted a huge bowl of ice cream for dessert with obvious enthusiasm. Though he seemed to talk a lot, Derek noticed he got each and every one of them to talk about themselves and their work while revealing next to nothing about himself. Stiles even got him to talk about the forge, the design of the gate he was working on, and what he knew about forging blades. It was not until he noticed the surprised expressions on everyone’s faces that he realized he had been participating in the conversation.

He might have felt embarrassed if Stiles had not seemed completely invested in what he had to say and had not Allison given him a radiant smile.

A little before ten, she finally admitted she was tired and needed to go to bed. Scott immediately got up to help her get ready, but she said, “It’s okay, Scott. Stay and talk to Stiles. Derek will give me a hand, won’t you sweetie?”

Derek would have gouged out anyone else’s eyes for calling him Sweetie, but Allison… Allison was closer to him than even the other wolves in his pack and his affection for her mirrored what he had felt for his own sisters. They had forged a bond, years ago, when they’d been taken and tortured together by the Alpha pack, a bond that nothing could break.

He smiled at her and lifted her off the couch before Scott had a chance to protest.

“Thanks,” Scott said, to the both of them. “I won’t be much longer, Allison. I have the early shift.”

Scott and Derek had shared her care in the long weeks after the last battle with the Alphas, when Kali had thrown her down an empty elevator shaft. Allison’d vehemently refused the bite, and Derek thought it had been her ultimate show of love to her father and respect for what her family stood for. Derek, who had come to grudgingly admire the man, could accept that. Beside, the bite might have helped her healing overall, but it had been hours before they’d gotten to her unconscious, broken body, and by then, it probably would have been too late in any case for her spine to heal completely. Even turned, she probably would have been in a wheelchair.

He sat her on the closed lid of the toilet in her and Scott’s bath. Stepping back in their room, he opened the bed and got her PJ’s ready as she flossed and brushed her teeth and did her girly night thing with her lotions and creams. Then he brought her a camisole and her pyjama top and turned away, letting her take care of changing out of her shirt and bra on her own.

He turned back to her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck as he lifted her into a standing position. She hissed at the familiar phantom pain in her right foot, which occurred anytime she was fully upright. The position was made more awkward these days by her big belly.

He helped her undress the rest of the way. He had done so many times before and there was no self-consciousness on either of their parts. 

All the while, she was chatting about Stiles, and what a sweet, funny guy he turned out to be. Derek left the bathroom again, dropping her clothes in the laundry basket, and closed the door. He waited just outside while she went on with her nightly routine.

“Did you notice he didn’t say much about himself?” she asked after a short while from inside the bath, her way to let him know she was all done and that he could come back.

“Hm.” Derek answered, so she knew he was listening. He went back in and lifted her up, bridal style, this time.

“I think Scott said he was a Navy Seal? In some Special Forces unit?”

As far as Derek knew, the Navy Seals _were_ Special Forces, but he wasn’t sure.

“He’s a computer wiz, too, he said,” she added. “A super-hacker or something. I wonder what he did for the military. Maybe it was all, you know, spy stuff, or something, and that’s why he’s not saying much. Scott says he is a hand-to-hand combat specialist and a sharp shooter as well. The Beacon Hills miscreants better watch their asses.”

Which, considering the Sheriff was a werewolf, would be nothing new.

“We sure could have used his help a few years ago,” she added wistfully.

He deposited her on the bed, delicately, and slipped on her pajama bottoms to her hips, not even trying to get them over her full round belly.

“I’m huge” she remarked with a giggle, looking down at herself.

He let his hand hover over the baby bump, silently asking for permission. She took it and put it flat against her skin on the lower right. Soon enough, he felt a kick. The wolf in him rejoiced. A strong, healthy child was soon to join the pack. She laughed and, bringing his hand to her lips, kissed his palm.

“Looking forward to the baby, Uncle Derek?” 

He smiled, pulled the duvet over her and asked: “Do you want your reading pillow?”

She smiled back. “No. I’m beat. G’night.”

He leaned down and kissed her forehead, turned off her bedside lamp and walked out of the room, leaving the door slightly open behind him so she could see the light from the corridor. She did not like to be in the dark on her own.

As he approach the family room, he realized everyone but Scott and Stiles had gone to bed. He stopped and listened to Scott, giving the Alpha a chance to close the conversation if it was private. But Scott kept talking, obviously aware of Derek’s presence, and not minding.

“…after Allison’s accident, after her father died. Lydia’s her best friend, and Derek… They’re as close as brother and sister, closer, even. So we shared an apartment. A lot of bad shit happened when we were in high school. It was nice to have each other, plus, at first, Allison needed more help than she does now, and I felt better knowing that she was almost never alone.”

Ah. Derek realized Stiles must have asked why they all lived together.

“Then Lydia and Carter got together,” Scott went on, “and he pretty much moved in, too. We really enjoyed living together, but it was getting a bit crowded. Derek and Carter came up with the idea of building a house for us on Derek’s property, and we made it big enough so we could all share the house, even once we had families.“

There was a moment of silence, then Stiles said, “I’m sorry about your mom, Scott. I’m sorry I didn’t get your message for so long. I was… out of touch, in special training for four months. I would have come for the funeral, you know I would.”

And would that not have been a bad mistake. Deucalion had killed Melissa to get to Scott. He had then killed both of Lydia’s parents, to try to unhinge her even more than she’d already been after Jackson’s death. The Alpha pack had slaughtered some of the teens’ teachers and classmates randomly, to force a meeting with Scott’s pack, and then, despite Deucalion’s assurance of a truce, had attacked without warning as soon as they had reached the agreed upon location.

Erica and Cora had been killed right off, before anyone had a chance to react, then Boyd and finally Isaac had died as they all fought back. Scott had gotten away with an injured Lydia, but Allison and Derek had stayed behind to provide cover for them. They’d both been taken and kept as hostages for over three months.

During that time, they’d been starved and tortured off and on. They treated him much worse than her, but he always healed, of course, while she didn’t. It had been cold in the windowless room where they were kept, and Allison had slept wrapped tightly in his arms. They had both talked about their past, to ease the time, and she’d grounded him during the full moons. Derek knew the both of them would have died without each other.

In a desperate attempt, Scott had reached out to Chris Argent. They’d put aside their differences, and Lydia and Chris had come up with a plan. Marc and Leon Argent, Gerard’s brothers, had come to help all the way from France bringing their leader, Marc’s daughter Sylvie, who was not much older than Allison.

Two werewolf brothers, Carter and Tim Drangsholt, had joined their side. They had been on the Alpha pack’s trail for three years, seeking revenge from Kali who had slaughtered their entire family to become part of the Alpha pack. That was how Carter had eventually come to join Scott's pack.

All together, they had managed to take the Alpha pack by surprise, taking them out one at a time without giving them a chance to regroup.  
The Alpha pack had not gone easily, but eventually had been decimated. Deucalion was finally killed by the four Argent hunters, though Sylvie and Chris had both lost their lives in that fight.  
Kali had gone to get Derek and Allison from their cell, hoping to use them as bargaining chips. She had expected them to have neither the will nor the energy to fight her. She had been wrong. Derek had killed her eventually, but not before she’d gotten Allison out of the way, throwing her down the shaft.

The price had been high. Tim and Carter had fought the twins, Ethan and Aidan and Tim had died. Leon Argent had lost an eye, and of course, Allison…

Marc and Leon had gone back to France, leaving Allison as the hunter in charge of monitoring the Beacon Hills pack. In the aftermath, the five of them had grown really close. When the couples got married, they had added ‘Hale’ to their names, Scott insisting that regardless of who the Alpha was, the Beacon Hills pack should remain the Hale pack. It meant so much to Derek.

Had Stiles been there for Melissa’s funeral, he would probably been killed as well. Scott’s only two non-pack friends, Danny and Greenberg, had been murdered going home from the cemetery. But of course, Scott would not mention any of this.

“Well, that explain the community living,” said Stiles, “but what about the teenagers? Are they related to any of you?”

“No. We’re their foster family. Well, Russ’s eighteen, so, really, he’s out of the system but he’s still family, you know? Their parents died, plane crash, a long time ago. Russell was fostered in Beacon Hills, and well. He had an argument with his foster father that turned violent. The neighbors called us and Russ was barely alive when I got to the scene. 

“Allison and I became foster parents so we could take him in. It turned out he had a sister, in the system also, but she was never placed because she was, uh… sick. We asked for her, and after she came here, got her the treatment she needed, and now she’s fine. She’ll be eighteen soon, too. But you know, they’re our kids, now. They’re not going anywhere.”

“They’re lucky, Scott. Hey, thanks for letting me stay here. I love your big, loud, happy family. Well, Derek is a little quiet, yeah? All dark and broodingly gorgeous.”

Scott laughed, knowing Derek could hear them and said: “He talked way more tonight than he usually does, believe me.”

Derek did not want to listen while they spoke about him. He cleared his throat as he came down the hall and went into the living room.

“Allison’s tucked in. She’s pretty tired.”

“Thanks, Derek.” Scott stretched. “Well, Stiles, we’ll have to catch up some more tomorrow. I have to get up early. Let me show you where your room is.”

“If Stiles doesn’t mind, I can show him.” Both Derek and Scott knew Allison would try to stay up till her husband came to bed, so Scott smiled at him gratefully.

Stiles said, “That’s fine Scott. I’m tired too. Long trip.”

He and Scott hugged. “Glad you’re here,” Scott said. 

“Dude, you wouldn’t believe how glad I am to be here,” answered Stiles. 

With one last smile, Scott left to join his wife. 

“You’re above my forge,” said Derek as he picked up Stiles’s bag and opened the front door for him, letting him go first.

“I can carry my bag, big guy…” Derek gave him a look, closed the door behind him and started walking. 

Stiles, following him, added, “But, hey! Knock yourself out. I’m the guest, right? Royal treatment for me! Are you gonna fold down my sheets and put a little chocolate on my pillow? Will you unpack for me? Can I get a massage? I could use a massage. That’s your forge?”

They walked up the outdoor stairs. “Uh, yeah. You’re not joking. That _is_ ‘above the forge’. Hmm… What time can I expect you to start hammering in the morning?”

Derek walked in the room and turned on the lamp on the table by the door. He put Stiles’s bag down on the bed, turned on the bedside lamp and turned on the light in the bathroom too. Derek liked Stiles. He smelled good.

The room was huge, with wooden beams overhead showing the underside of the roof. It had a large sitting area and a small desk in front of one of the dormer window. Charlotte had put flowers on the coffee table in front of the big and comfortable couch. Stiles was taking in all the detail, and, for a moment, Derek could see the soldier used to barracks in him clearly.

Stiles smiled and him and quipped, "Cool. Better than my last digs."

Derek walked back to the front door and stopped. Turning to Stiles, he said, “I don’t start work until after breakfast.” 

He stood there, looking at Stiles expressionlessly, listening to the man’s heart accelerate as he wondered why Derek was staring at him. 

“I’m terribly sorry,” Derek deadpanned. “No chocolate.”

Stiles burst out laughing. “No massage either?”

Derek raised an eyebrow at him, wanting to fluster him again. Flustered worked for Stiles, in Derek’s opinion. And flustered Stiles smelled stronger. A definite plus, because he smelled _so fucking good_.

Derek leaned against the closed door. “Wasn’t I to unpack for you first?”

Stiles chuckled appreciatively, walking to the bed. “Actually, it’s mostly laundry. It was a long trip.”

He undid the closure of his rucksack and turned it over on the bed, bunched clothes tumbling out. The room completely filled with Stiles’ alluring scent: Stiles and sun, Stiles and sand, clean Stiles, Stiles sweat, sleepy Stiles, Stiles musk, and Derek didn’t know when he’d moved, but suddenly he was standing face to face with Stiles, way too close, with a hand behind his neck. He froze.

They were the same height, and their faces were only inches from each other. Stiles’s heart was beating very, very loudly and his whole body was tense, ready to strike. Derek realized the ex-soldier had barely stopped himself from reacting to the sudden invasion of his personal space. The only reason he had not gone into defensive mode was probably that they had been looking at each other when Derek moved, so that he’d seen him coming.

“Wow, big guy. Uh, usually? Approach with caution. And also, what the fuck?”

Derek took his hand away and said, “Sorry. You just smell really good,” as if that explanation made any sense. He went to take a step back, feeling like a complete ass. A Cro-Magnon ass at that. But Stiles caught his wrist and kept him there.

“Yeah?” Stiles asked.

Stiles did smell good. He really fucking did, especially this close. Derek met his eyes. “Yeah...”

Stiles leaned forward and smelled Derek’s neck, under his ear. “You smell good too,” he said. Then he _licked_ that spot and Derek groaned, his body shaking a little.

Stiles looked at him speculatively and ran a hand up Derek’s arm, placing the other on Derek’s chest, above his heart.  
“Uh… I would have taken it a lot slower, but, uh, yeah. I would lie if I said the thought of us doing sexy things to each other hadn’t crossed my mind tonight. Repeatedly. So, if I’m getting this right and that’s what’s on offer, I’m willing. Totally. Willing and…” he looked down at himself, chuckling a little, “Apparently ready, and able too.” Stiles looked back at Derek. “Wanna get naked?”

Derek, who only ever fucked strangers, was pretty surprised that, from his end, the answer was a definite, unequivocal ‘yes’. 

At least part of getting naked could be done while kissing, so he leaned forward and did that. He had stared at Stiles mouth for a good part of the night, and it was just as soft and warm as he’d imagined, opening to him without hesitation, Stiles’s tongue, soft and agile and _bold_.

Efficiently, they each saw to their own clothes, and it took very little time for them to be standing in front of each other, naked, grinning and panting just a little.

Stiles ran his palms over Derek’s abs, his chest, his arms. Derek was aware of the way he looked. He’d been complimented about it plenty of time, but he’d rarely been so happy about it. Without words, they made it on the bed, lying on their sides, looking at each other, touching here and there.

When Derek went out to find sex, the men he favored matched Stiles’s body type. He was thin in the way of men who stay thin all their life, with a very defined six-pack and long, lean, hard muscles. Though he had a few scars, his skin was soft and supple. He had short straight hair on his chest, a dark treasure trail, dense pubic hair and a lovely, good-sized cock, already a bit more than half-mast, straight and cut. He was fucking perfect, and he smelled awesome.

Derek’s own thick dick was fully hard, the glistening head partly out of his foreskin, leaking precome. Stiles rolled towards him and started kissing him again, one hand on Derek’s face. He had gorgeous hands, strong, long fingered, calloused. Derek moved Stiles on top of him, so he could run his hands down the broad lean back (feeling more scars), along the narrow hips, and over the tight, round, firm ass.

Oh, yeah. A very nice ass. Derek loved that ass. He rolled them over so he could be on top and headed south. He held himself back from spending to much time sucking at Stiles’s long gorgeous neck because he was _not_ a fucking vampire, and yet he _knew_ that if he lingered, he would not be able to resist leaving marks all over it.

Sliding his legs between Stiles’s, he played with a nipple, next to which was a mark like a burn, and loved the feeling of the short soft hair under his tongue. He took a long breath in Stiles’s pit, glad that the ivory soap’s smell was the only one added to Stiles very male sweat scent. Down and down he went, running his tongue over ridges and into grooves, leaving a trail of wet hair behind. Stiles’s sighs of appreciation were much more quiet than the running commentary he’d almost been expecting.

There was a whimper when he breathed in at the base of Stiles’s cock, a quiet moan when he nuzzled his balls and a whispered “Oh god!” when he slipped his hands under Stiles’s perfect butt cheeks, parted them with his thumbs and ran his tongue down the crack.

His nose in Stiles’s balls, his tongue at his hole, Derek was in heaven. Stiles’s musk was heady, strong, exquisite. He circled the tight folds closing the hole with the tip of his tongue, getting everything wet, and stabbed in, burying it in Stiles’s ass as deep as it could go. He’d always loved the strong manly scents to be found down there, though rimming was not often in his repertoire. Right now, though, he felt he would be happy to eat Stiles ass _all night long_.

Stiles was keening quietly, obviously trying to hold in the noises he was making. It occurred to Derek that the man had probably shared quarters and showers and tents with others _all his life_ and that he’d probably _never_ had had any privacy.

He said, “We’re alone, Stiles. Let me hear you!” and went back to it.

Stiles held back for another minute, then broke. “Oh god! Oh fuck! Derek! This feels _so_ good! Warm! It’s so… guh! Yeah, oh god! Umph! Aargh! Oh, fucking fuck!”

Stiles’s balls were creeping up in his sack, getting closer to his body. Derek replaced his tongue with a finger and worked his way to Stiles’ cock taking it in his mouth as far as he could go and sucking. He only went up and down on the shaft a few times, swirling his tongue around the head on the way up, and fucking Stiles’ ass with his finger in the same rhythm before Stiles warned, “Watch out, I’m gonna…” Derek sucked Styles cock in deeper and was rewarded with a flood of come erupting on his tongue as Stiles cried out wordlessly.

He swallowed it all rather greedily, loving the weird sleek bitterness of it, Stiles’s scent overwhelming his senses. He licked a panting Stiles clean, wiped his own face and hands on the sheet and made his way back up to join Stiles at the head of the bed. He smiled at the very happy looking man and said, “You taste really good, too.”

Stiles chuckled and his hands framing Derek’s face, kissed him nice and deep. He fell back against the pillow, boneless, and said, a bit breathlessly, “You don’t hold back, do you. I wanna suck you off, but you’ve killed me. I need a couple of minutes, OK?”

Derek kissed him, his body humming with arousal. He started frotting himself against Stiles hip, loving the way Stiles just let him ravage his mouth. Soon enough, Stiles hands were on his ass, pressing him closer, caressing him, holding him. It had been so fucking long.

Stiles backed away a little and said, “Shall I?” but Derek thought this was perfect already, Stiles skin wet with Derek’s precome, the pressure delicious, the movements just right. He wanted to come like that.

“No, no, I’m so close… I want to look at you.” And he did, enjoying the way Stiles’s wet lips were parted, the shadow of his eyelashes on his pale skin when he blinked slowly, the amber eyes that looked back at him knowingly when his skin erupted in goose bumps.

“Yeah, you’re there, aren’t you? Let it go…” and Derek did, his eyes never leaving Stiles as the waves of pleasures took over, as he spilled long and hot on the soft, warm skin.

“Oh, god, you’re gorgeous when you come…” Stiles pulled Derek’s head down so they could kiss again, sucking on his tongue and holding him tight until the shudders stopped and Derek rolled to the side, conscious of how much he weighed.

They smiled at each other, basking in the afterglow, surprisingly comfortable. Derek grabbed one of the balled up t-shirts that had come from Stiles rucksack and wiped his come off Stiles’s side, noticing a nasty looking jagged scar. He traced it gently with the side of his thumb. Stiles pushed himself on his elbow to look down at it.

“Bullets. Two of them. Luckily I had a field surgical kit with me, but I had to take them out and sew it up myself. Two others right there,” he said, pointing under his ribcage on the left. “Two years later. Good grouping,” he joked, “just a couple inches too low. These did more damage, but the scars look better because I was evacuated to a real hospital.”

Derek pointed to three different straight slashes on Stiles’s torso and belly.

“Hm… These are both knives, both pretty shallow, the guts stayed in. But dude,” he chuckled. “that just from from my appendix.” He pointed out several similar straight slashes on his forearms and upper arms. “Defensive wounds,” he explained, and he chuckled again at a star-shaped one above his right clavicle: “Would you believe it, this is from a fucking _arrow_!”

Derek pointed to the burn mark he had noticed next to one of Stiles’s nipple and saw there was a matching one right _on_ the other.  
“Ugh. Don’t like to think about those much. Electrical burns. They go with the ones on my back.”

He rolled over, exposing the ridges Derek had felt under his fingers, criss-crossing the smooth expend of skin.

“One of the reasons someone in my line of work should never get caught. But I got away, and still had my cock and balls, so I’m not complaining.” He looked at Derek, frowning a little. “Not all that pretty, I guess,” and there was a genuine insecurity in his eyes, as if he’d just realized that his scars were kind of unsightly and might be a turn off.

Derek knew for a fact that if he’d ever scarred he’d have looked a whole lot worse, and, in truth, the marks left by Stiles’s previous life did not, in his eyes at least, make Stiles any less attractive. Quite the opposite, actually.

“I have a tattoo,” Derek offered, though that was stupid, he realized, since unlike scars, tattoos were meant to _be_ attractive.

“Yeah?” asked Stiles with a grin, apparently understanding Derek’s intent.

Derek turned onto his front.

“A triskele! That’s cool. It looks good…” Stiles climbed on Derek’s back and followed the lines of the tattoo with his tongue, making Derek shiver. Stiles went on caressing, kissing and licking his back, making his way down to Derek’s ass. He ran his hand on it softly.

“ _Your_ skin is perfect, and your ass… You have a very nice ass…” He kissed one of Derek’s cheeks.

After a quiet moment, he added, “Could… Could I fuck you? I’d really like to fuck you.”

Derek gave him a look over his shoulder. Stiles’ expression said something like, “Hey, I had to ask! The worst you could say is no!”

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Derek questioned, eyebrows raised.

“Dude, I could teach the course,” said Stiles with a shit-eating grin.

To answer, Derek grabbed a pillow and placed it under his hips. Then he lay back down and waited. Stiles almost fell off the bed in his eagerness to get to his bag on the floor, and fished out a string of condoms and a bottle of lube. From the corner of his eye, Derek noticed that Stiles was fully hard again. Getting fucked had never been his favorite thing, but as long as it didn’t hurt, he didn’t mind. He was sure he’d get his turn eventually.

Stiles prepared him gently, thoroughly, peppering his ass and lower back with small kisses, caressing his back, and it was more than a little bit of a turn on. The fingering felt great. It was as if the thousands of nerve endings in the area had pleasantly come alive, and when Stiles caressed Derek’s prostate, it was deliberate and not overwhelming. By the time Stiles’s sheathed and lubed cock replaced his fingers, Derek had been really close to begging for it, and it felt nothing but good.

He was pretty surprised how much he enjoyed relinquishing control, having Stiles above him, in a position of dominance. Then he stopped thinking, because it felt so damn good. Stiles definitely knew what he was doing, his rhythmic motions sure, controlled and very effective. Derek’s cock was starting to get desperately interested in the proceedings. Once again, Stiles had gone quiet though his heart was beating like a drum, but his hands were all over Derek, his touch soothing, caring, _appreciative_.

Then Stiles leaned forward and the fingers of his left hand interlaced with Derek’s, where his hand had been next to his shoulder. Stiles’s right hand, sleek with lube, wrapped around Derek’s cock, forcing a groan of appreciation out of him. As his pleasure built, Stiles’s forehead resting between his shoulder blades, Derek realized Stiles centered his open-mouthed kisses on Derek’s tattoo.

A sudden intake of breath and Stiles stilled for an instant. Derek could feel Stiles’s cock pulsing inside him as he came and the grip of the hand around his own cock tightened. It was the feeling of the hot breath released quietly in the middle of his back that carried him over. He pushed into Stiles’s fist a couple more times, and his whole body shuddered blissfully as he came.

Stiles completely collapsed on top of him, his body warm and the beat of his heart resonating in Derek’s chest. The weight was welcome, comforting. Had he been human, Derek would have missed the words Stiles whispered against his skin. “Derek. Derek.”

A couple of minutes later, Stile squeezed his hand before gently sliding out and off of him. He got up and went to the bathroom, turning on the water at the sink. He returned shortly and gently cleansed Derek’s entrance with a warm washcloth. He made another trip, nudged Derek so he would roll over, and this time washed the come off Derek’s cock and stomach. He turned off the bathroom light and the bedside lamp and climbed into bed, pulling the comforter, which had fallen to the side, over them both.

They lay facing each other, sharing a pillow. Derek traced Stiles’s eyebrow with the tip of his finger and caressed his cheekbone with his thumb. He followed yet another scar at his hairline as it disappeared into the hair, and Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Are there more?” Derek asked.

Stiles shrugged. “A few.”

Derek almost said he liked them, but decided that that was not the right thing to say about marks that had been left by pain and suffering. He wasn’t sure if it was the high of their amazing sexual connection, or the late hour and the semi darkness, but he wanted to tell Stiles how beautiful he thought he was, though he didn’t know how.

“I can’t decide what color your eyes are,” said Stiles.

“I loved how you fucked me,” answered Derek and where the hell had that come from?

“Yeah, that was good,” said Stiles softly, and he moved closer to Derek, burying his face in his neck. Derek wrapped his arms around him and they held each other close for a while. Stiles whispered, “And that’s almost as good.”

Derek agreed. It had been so fucking long since he’d been held like that. He closed his eyes, breathing in Stiles heavenly scent, now mixed with his own.  
He hadn’t realized he was falling asleep until he woke up still holding Stiles tightly in his arms. The clock at the bedside said it was only one fifteen, but he needed to go. He kissed Stiles’s temple.

“I have to get back,” he said.

“Yeah. Ok.” The way Stiles spoke and looked at him, all bright eyes and bushy tail, it was obvious _he’d_ not been asleep.

“You’re up.” Derek stood, looking around for his shirt.

“Jet lag, and I can’t seem to shut my mind down.”

Derek found his jeans instead and started to put them on without underwear. “Isn’t sex supposed to take care of that?” he teased.

“Maybe a blow job and a fuck aren’t enough?” Stiles suggested.

Derek stilled, his fly only buttoned half way up. “Oh, yeah? What more would you need?”

“Weren’t you heading for your bed?”

“You’re the guest, right? Royal treatment for you… And I already failed abysmally in the chocolate department.”

Stiles grinned. “Yes you did. Whatever shall you do to redeem yourself?”

“Fuck you until you can’t keep your eyes open?”

“Care to back that up?”

Derek started reopening his fly. He was half hard already. Stiles pulled the comforter aside and opened his knees invitingly, his hand caressing his cock. He threw the bottle of lube at Derek, who caught it in mid air.

“Good reflexes,” Stiles commented.

Derek stepped out of his jeans and knelt between Stiles’s knees. He wet his fingers with lube and circled the hole he’d explored so pleasantly earlier. Just remembering _that_ , and he was ready to go.

“Put two in,” said Styles, eyes shining.

Derek raised his eyebrows but complied. Stile’s initial hiss was not from pain, and after the first extreme tightness, Stiles relaxed easily around his fingers.

“More,” he said. His heart was beating fast, and a sweet blush was spreading to his chest.

Derek pushed three fingers in and Stiles bit his lower lip with a whine that did not sound like pain either.

“S’good,” he said.

Already, the three fingers were going in and out easily, both sphincters relaxed.

“I’m ready, Derek. Fuck me…”

Usually, Derek went to four fingers, because aside from being a respectable seven inches in length, his cock was really thick. But Stiles was pushing against his pumping fingers, and he’d held him in his hand, so he knew what he was asking for…

“Here,” said Stiles, opening a condom packet. “Let me…”

It was not Derek’s brand, and at first felt a little constrictive but as Stiles rolled it down it eased up. Derek covered it with lube, and added some more at Stiles’s entrance. He did not want to hurt him. He started going in slowly, but Stiles wrapped his legs around him and pushed him forward, burying him to the hilt in one go.

“Fuck yeah…” Stiles said and then, astonishingly, tightened around Derek who thought he was going to lose his mind, it felt so good.

“Fuck yeah…” Derek echoed, unintentionally. He started moving, and Stiles moved with him right away, in perfect sync. It was not slow or gentle. It was fast and deep and hard and amazing. Stiles’s body demanded all that he could give, his hips canting, his legs pulling Derek in, and Derek’s body responded with one of the most forceful fucks of his life.

His cock was encased in unbelievably tight softness and warmth and it was mind-blowingly good. He could feel sweat rolling down his back as he pounded away, the loud drum of Stiles heart echoing his own. His face was in Stiles’s neck, his breath moist and hot on the fragrant skin.

Stiles’s hard cock was slip sliding between their stomachs, and he felt all of Stiles’s muscles tense as Stiles arched and a flood of warmth erupted between them. His own orgasm was all encompassing, his whole body shuddering with it, taking all his strength with it.

It took him a ridiculously long time to catch his breath, and he was still breathing heavy when both he and Stiles started shaking with laughter.

“That was…” He said, at loss for words.

“Yeah. Holy shit. Well, I think I can sleep now…” Stiles’s legs and arms fell off Derek, who pushed himself up on shaky arms. He pulled out gently, both for Stiles’s and his sake, because god!

He got to his knees to take off the condom and said, “Shit,” because it was pretty much gone. It was ripped length-wise and pushed up around the base of his deflating dick.

“Wow. Has this happened to you before?” asked Stiles.

“No. Never. You?”

“Nope. Huh…”

Derek slipped the poor shredded thing off and wiped himself with the t-shirt they’d used before.

“Hm,” said Stiles. “They gave me a medical when I left, and I tested negative, and it had been ridiculously long, like… huh… eight months? So…”

Obviously, Derek didn’t care. The HIV virus was no more a concern to him than any other. He couldn’t get infected, couldn’t be a carrier. He always used condoms because his sex partners were human and he would not fuck someone who cared so little about his own health that he would fuck raw with a stranger. “I haven’t been with anyone in… four and a half month,” he said, which was the pathetic truth.

“When were you last tested?”

That was a bit tricky. “I was negative three weeks ago.” And every week before and since, obviously. It was definitely true and he let Stiles interpret it as he would.

Stiles smiled at him. “No harm done, then.”

“No,” agreed Derek. “I’m sorry. You were so tight, and it felt so fucking good. I totally didn’t realize when it broke.”

Stiles grinned. “I’m not sorry.”

Derek grinned back. “Yeah. Me neither.”

It was his turn to get up, wash off, and come back with a wet washcloth to clean Stiles up. He was careful and gentle with his ass, but it all looked good, his hole closed again with its neat little folds, like he’d not just been fucked within an inch of his life. By the time he came back to clean Stiles’s stomach, the man was half asleep, smiling at him with his eyes already closed. “Such excellent service… Better than chocolate.”

Derek pulled the comforter over him, found and put on his boxers, jeans and socks and slipped on his boots, pulled on his undershirt and, deciding not to bother with the rest, headed out. Stiles was already deep asleep when Derek turned off the lamp by the door, his breathing deep and even, his heart beat nice and slow.

He stopped outside to look up at the stars, bright since the moon had already set. He took a couple of deep, cleansing breaths. Stiles was amazing. Derek felt no regrets over what had transpired, even though it had happened so, so fast and it had the potential to get a bit complicated. He’d not felt this good about anyone… ever.

Stiles’s scent was all over him, mingled with his. He liked it, a lot, but it would be a little awkward to explain. Lucky for him, there was a tree in front of his window, and he always left the down pane slightly open. It took very little effort to climb in, and since he was alone at that end of the house, no one would be the wiser.

He cleaned his teeth enjoying the happy buzz of his body. He felt really, really good. He fell into bed and was asleep instantly. 

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let me try to jog your memory, instead, which is probably needed since it has been ages since chapter 1 was posted...  
> This is the story where Stiles has been in the military for years, in a special unit, and is a BAMF?   
> Scott is the Alpha and the town's sheriff?   
> Allison is in a wheelchair and pregnant?  
> Derek was never the Alpha, he is a blacksmith and Allison's closest friend?   
> Stiles has been hired as a sheriff's deputy and they invite him to stay 'till he finds a place?   
> Only hours after he arrives, he and Derek fall in bed together and have awesome sex?
> 
> Ring a bell? All right then. Onward!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh... There is a lot of sex in this story.

That damn rooster was in the tree in front of Derek’s window again, and it was crowing at 5:30 in the morning. It was one of the nine chicks that had hatched the spring before. They had roasted and eaten all the other young roosters, only keeping the hens, but this one was spectacularly beautiful, completely black including feet and beak, and Charlotte had named him Sirius, so of course, now, they couldn’t kill it. That was it, though. Derek was catching it _today_ , clipping its wings and putting him in the coop with the rest of the flock.

It would still crow, but the coop was far enough that Derek would be able to ignore it and sleep on, like he did when the old rooster crowed.

He lay there, with his hands behind his head, his morning wood more pronounced than usual because of the vivid visions of how he wanted to share it with Stiles that were dancing in his head. Last night’s fuck was the best he’d ever had. Stiles smelled insanely good, tasted even better, and he was so wondrously hot in bed Derek was still spinning from it.

It had set Derek’s imagination free, and now he wanted to try fucking him against the wall, fucking him in the bathtub, fucking outside in the meadow, Stiles on all four, Derek biting his neck and pretending they were wolves. He wanted to caress Stiles ass, spread his cheeks and plunge his nose in the fragrant crack, his tongue in the fragrant hole, and rim Stiles until he begged again like he had last night, his hole hot and sleek and pulsing in want of Derek’s cock.

Allison was going to see Dr. Deaton today. Derek would usually go with Scott and her, he loved to see the ultrasounds, but he was hoping he and Stiles could stay behind instead, hoping Stiles wanted a repeat of last night as much as he did. He had a fleeting thought of sneaking out right now, and going to the room above the forge to see if Stiles was up to being ravished, but it would be a really bad idea, especially since Scott’s alarm would be going off right about now and the alpha always bounced out of bed with way too much energy for 6:00 in the morning.

Instead, Derek peeled off his undershirt and boxers and dropped them in the laundry chute, as he had the rest of his clothes last night. Allison did the laundry. She wouldn’t notice the fact that Stiles scent was all over those clothes. Derek took a long shower, a bit hotter than usual, and scrubbed every inch of his skin with the scrubby glove that came in the Body Shop basket Allison had given him for Christmas, with the full line of tea tree scented products that he liked. He stopped when he was sure not one molecule of Stiles’s scent remained on his skin. He also shaved, to make absolutely sure.

Though he was really hoping to do something more fun than work this morning, he put on some work pants, wool socks and a Henley, as he did everyday. Then he joined everyone at the breakfast table. To anyone else, the morning spread would look like an elaborate Sunday brunch, with the huge plate of pancakes, the pile of sausages, the mountain of crispy bacon on a plate and the salad bowl full of scrambled eggs. Scott was toasting a whole loaf, four slices at a time, and Lydia was putting butter, honey and three different kinds of jam on the table. Russell was juicing a five-pound net of oranges with a huge Mexican press, humming under his breath. His hair was standing on end and he was wearing his lifeguard uniform. He worked from 7:00AM to 11:00AM four days a week at the YMCA pool.

They all sat down and ate. The only ones talking were Lydia (who only had a cup of tea and one slice of toast with a teaspoon of orange marmalade in the morning) and Allison, who was gingerly eating a couple tablespoons of scrambled eggs and drinking a huge glass of milk.

“So, are you going to find out the sex?” asks Lydia, who had argued for it for about six months insisting that it would simplify the baby shopping if they knew ahead of time.

“No, Lydia! And quit it! You know I want to be surprised!”

“Why can’t you be surprised _today_ instead of five weeks from now, what’s the dif?”

The werewolves concentrated on their food even more. None of them had told Allison they’d been able to tell the sex of the baby for the past four months. They’d been really good at faking ignorance and they all totally got off on knowing something Lydia didn’t for a change.

“Good morning!” Styles waltzed into the kitchen, and they all jumped, because _none_ of them had noticed him coming in. He moved extremely stealthily for a mere human. None of the wolves could help but take a deep breath, wondering if their noses were broken or something. But no, Styles had a scent. The fact that his scent so seamlessly blended with the pack’s was really weird. Because he knew it was there, Derek could smell just a hint of his own musk on him, and he felt a bit warm, knowing where it came from, a place where even the thorough shower Stiles had taken that morning could not reach to erase it.

The others were freaked enough by the fact that Stiles smelled so much like pack, they didn’t notice that it was more than the smell of leather that made Stiles scent resemble Derek’s.

“Wow! Is this spread in my honor, or do you always eat like this?” asked Stiles with enthusiasm.

“Uh… That’s pretty normal, actually. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, right?” ventured Scott, with a sheepish grin.

“I’m on board with that,” answered Stiles with a grin, piling as much food on his plate as Russell, even. “Hey, Derek, pass the syrup?”

The fact that he very deliberately caressed Derek’s fingers as he took the jug of maple syrup from him passed unnoticed from anyone else, but their eyes met and Derek’s insides did a little dance. He _had known_ it was probably not a one-off. It hadn’t felt like a one-off, but it was nice to have it confirmed. God, he wanted to fuck Stiles again…

“Do you need to go to town today?” Scott asked Stiles. “We’re all leaving in about twenty minutes, but you don’t have to come right now. I’ll be bringing Allison and Derek back around ten, ten thirty, after her appointment with the doctor. You could come to town then.”

“I’m going to skip it, today,” said Derek, trying for casual. “I’m a bit behind on the commission.” He turned to Stiles. “You could also borrow my car if you wanted to go to town independently. I don’t use it often.”

Scott looked at him with a big smile. They all knew how Derek felt about the Camaro, and the Alpha interpreted the offer as an effort on Derek’s part to make his childhood friend feel welcome. Derek shrugged at him.

“I think I’ll stick around for now, then,” said Stiles. “Take advantage of your broadband. I’m going to look on e-bay for some wheels, and check out the housing situation.”

“You’re welcome to stay here for a couple of weeks, you know,” says Allison with a smile. “You don’t have to rush to find something.”

Stiles looked at her and smiled back. “That’s really nice. Thanks. It was going to try to find something to move in this weekend, but it _would_ be easier to start a lease on the first of the month, if you’re really OK with me staying that long.”

“You can always show your appreciation by cleaning up breakfast,” said Carter, jokingly.

“Sure. No problem,” agreed Stiles.

“Don’t! That’s his job today!” cried Charlotte. “Clean up after breakfast _tomorrow_ , when it’s my turn!”

“How about I clean up after breakfast everyday while I’m here?”

Carter and Charlotte high fived. “Oh, yeah!”

“Or not,” corrected Scott. “Why should you two be the ones to take advantage of him? Russell and I are on evening clean up,” he explained to Stiles. “and Stiles is _my_ best friend,” he added to the others.

Scott didn’t catch the smile that wanted to split Stiles face, and that he hid behind his glass of juice, but both Lydia and Derek noticed how happy he was that Scott referred to him as ‘his best friend’ even after all that time. They exchanged a grin. Anyone who loved Scott that much was all right in their book.

“We’re not keeping him here to take advantage of him, guys,” chided Allison. “Your help is always welcome, Stiles, but don’t let this bunch abuse your kindness. However, _I_ can always use a hand with folding laundry,” she added with a giggle. “Talking about which, just put your dirty clothes in the laundry room, I’ll wash them with ours, I do two loads a day anyway…”

“I can fold. And grill steaks, and clean up after meals, and vacuum. I’m happy to help,” said Stiles with an honest smile.

He did help Carter clean up after breakfast, and soon they were all out the door, and it was just he and Derek, standing there.

The air seemed charged with energy and things unsaid as they stared at each other, both smiling a bit.

“So,” said Stiles. “Wanna show me the forge?”

Derek nodded, though what he wanted was not to pound on hot metal with a hammer as much as to pound Stiles into the mattress. They walked out, Stiles putting up the hood of his sweatshirt, and shoving his hands in his pockets. It _was_ pretty chilly out. They could see their breath as they walked the tree lined path to the forge, their steps quiet on the pine needle covered ground. The air smelled clean, the clear sky a promise of afternoon warmth.

When they got to the forge, Stiles stopped, his eyes going from the pneumatic hammer to the three sized anvils, and, scuffing the ground with his trainer like a kid asked, “Uh… Wanna fuck again first?” and then they were running up the outdoor stairs to Stiles room, and stripping their clothes as fast as they could as soon as they got there, laughing at how eager they both were. They met, naked, at the foot of the bed and their kiss was just as _perfect_ as it had been the night before, their hands just as impatient.

“Oh, fuck!” said Stiles when Derek’s fingertip slid down his crack.

Derek growled his approval at that idea.

Stiles chuckled, his hands in Derek’s hair, kissing him like he meant it. God, Derek wanted him. So fucking much.

“Let me…” he mumbled, as he got Stiles on the bed, none too gently.

“Umph… All right,” Stile teased, “I take it you’re on top?”

Derek just wanted him, any way he could get him and his lips and hands were all over Stiles lanky frame, his nose in Stiles pubes, breathing him in, his hands under his ass and his tongue in his hole because he _couldn’t_ wait, and he was so turned on when Stiles mewled his approval he was shaking.

“Oh, god, you’re so good at that! Is this your thing? ‘cause it feels like your thing, and yeah… oh, fuck… this is me really hoping it’s your thing, ‘cause, god… yeah…”

Derek was pretty sure he was doing it right because Stiles was soon reduced to mumbling and his musk was getting so much stronger, and his hole was pulsing around Derek’s tongue.

“Fuck me, please, c’mon, fuck me…”

Stiles didn’t have to ask him again. Derek added lube from the bottle that was _right there_ to the pre-cum on his dick, placed Stiles ankles on his shoulders, loving the slanted morning light on the pale skin in front of him, and pushed the head of his dick in. Oh, god! It was so fucking good!

“You don’t have a condom on,” said Stiles, suddenly _very_ coherent again.

Derek froze. “No.”

“Uh…”

Derek started to pull out. “Sorry. I’ll put one on.” But Stiles was holding him in with his heels.

“Wait. You don’t think we need one?” Stiles asked.

Well, no, of course they didn’t, but Derek knew that Stiles didn’t know that, that they had not reached that level of trust yet, that if Derek were human, even after last night’s incident, they would still be using a condom.

Derek shrugged and went to pull out again.

“No. Don’t. You said you’re clean. I _know_ I’m clean. I… Fuck. I want your cum inside of me again. I have no intention of fucking around, so if you don’t either… Please, Derek, just fuck me.”

Why should Stiles trust him that much? Derek had no desire to fuck anyone else, but they hardly knew each other. Still, Derek wanted his cum deep in Stiles’s ass. He wanted to find that slight scent on him when he searched for it, that scent that said that he’d marked Stiles as his, that Stiles went around with Derek’s cum inside of him. His possessive side loved knowing Stiles had no interest in other partners.

He stared in Stiles eyes, making it a statement when he pushed in all the way, answered when Stiles tilted his hips just so, getting him in just a fraction deeper but making his intent clear. Derek fell forward, folding Stiles in half to reach his lips and started fucking his willing mouth with his tongue just as he fucked his willing ass with his cock. So good. So, so _good_. The sounds Stiles was making were driving him wild and he pounded into him without restraint, loving it, just loving it.

The strong hands around his biceps tightened, and there was a slick hotness between their tight stomachs as Stiles was moaning in his mouth and the thought that he had made Stiles come with just his cock made him arch and howl in triumph as he repeatedly shot his cum deep inside Stiles ass. He rested his forehead on Stiles’s shoulder as he caught his breath and let his heart slow down.

Stiles’ ankles slid along his arms and Derek let him stretch himself back out even though he stayed inside him, on top of him, resting his weight on his forearm and licking Stiles throat.

“Wow,” said Stiles. “It was that good, eh?” He was chuckling a little but sounded very pleased, so pleased in fact that Derek was not as embarrassed to have let the wolf take over for a second as he should have been. He was a little awed though. 

He kissed Stiles deep and thorough, because, yeah, it had been _that_ good. Derek knew his eyes would have glowed blue as he came had they not been closed, and he had literally just fucking howled in pleasure, for fuck’s sakes. He’d never done that before.

“You did like it, then,” Stile continued. “‘Cause I kinda think so, you know, what with the howling and all, but I just want to make sure…”

Derek huffed a laugh. “Shut up, Stiles.”

Stiles was silent for like, twenty seconds, and then added, “Uh… I didn’t howl, but it was great, OK? In case you have any doubt. OK, great doesn’t even cover it. It was… It was… And last night? Yeah, last night too. I would have howled if I knew how, believe me… Oooh, and if that twitch in your cock just now means what I think it means, I’m on board with that, definitely, positively, 100% on board with ‘A Howling-good fuck part two’.” 

Derek rocked his hips. Stiles sighed happily. “Oh, yeah… Yeah, like that, exactly…”

Derek had no clue how his dick was getting hard again so soon, but he was on board too, though this time, Stiles feet were hooked behind his back and both their motions and their kiss were much more languid. His whole body was humming with pleasure though, and the trembling of Stiles body beneath him was driving him insane. He rolled them over, helped Stiles up, and now Stiles was sitting on his dick, driving the fuck, looking intensely at Derek and biting his lower lips. His cock was hard again too, still glistening with cum, bouncing a little as he moved. His scent was answering some deep atavistic call in Derek’s brain. 

Derek folded his knees up, and Stiles braced himself with his forearms on them, supporting part of his weight as he moved up and down, arching to hit the right spot, shamelessly pleasuring himself on Derek’s dick.

Derek was struggling to stay still, not to buck up in the welcoming moist heat, but to just let the pleasure grow, one slide at a time, Stiles totally in charge. He was close, Stiles keeping him there, at the gates of heaven, the amber eyes roaming on his splayed body, making him feel beautiful, wanted.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” said Stiles, his words slightly slurred, drunk on sex. “You look so much younger without your stubble.” He bit his lower lip and ground down on Derek. “Oh, god, Derek, you’re so deep inside, so hard, so perfect, this is so good, so… I love your body, just love…” He arched back and moaned. “Oh, fuck. Here I come…” and his cock erupted untouched again, his cum thick, oozing down his shaft as he panted and groaned. His skin glowed with sweat, each lean muscle underlined by the morning light, his spareness beautiful. 

Derek pushed deep inside him and let go, his dick pulsing pleasure in sync with Stiles’s heartbeat, never taking his eyes of the pink parted lips, the muscles that trembled beneath the luminous skin, the amber eyes that met is, without guard, showing him how vulnerable Stiles was feeling in that moment of complete surrender, how blown away he was by it.

Derek pulled him to his chest and rolled them again, slipping out of Stiles’ body but staying close, a leg between his, propped on his elbow and caressing his face. He forced himself to verbalize how he felt, because Stiles looked more than a little freaked out. 

“Yeah,” Derek whispered. “I know.”

Stiles blinked at him, and he realized that that was a step in the right direction, but was not quite enough. He hid his face in Stiles’ neck, because he felt fucking vulnerable too, and all of a sudden, with that perfect scent all around him, he got it. That it _was_ perfect, that his wolf was _choosing_ Stiles as its mate, that his wolf was imprinting itself with him forever. What the fuck?

His rational side was scared shitless, because, really? A human? One he’d known for less than twenty-four hours? That made no fucking sense. Beta wolves usually took a long time to find their mate, to form that permanent bond. Quite a few Beta males never did. He should get the fuck out before his wolf got his way. He had to tell Stiles he had to go.

He looked at Stiles again and fuck. He loved the way Stiles was looking back at him, all wide-eyed, licking his lips, obviously nervous.

“It’s really good, between us, yeah?” Derek said instead, smiling back at him.

“Freakishly so,” answered Stiles, softly, honestly.

Derek nodded. He should go though. He should not let himself forge a bond like that with an unsuspecting human. Stiles didn’t act like he was just in it for a quick fuck, but they _didn’t know each other._ If he knew, Stiles would not want this, would he? It would be like Derek saying ‘I love you’ right now, and expect Stiles to say it back: Way too soon and completely inappropriate.

But… He had been alone for so fucking long. If he turned his back on this now (and that was what he had to do if he didn’t want it to happen because he could not control how the wolf felt), if he turned his back on this, it would be lost. It was a one-time thing. And, fuck, he wanted this, wanted Stiles, so fucking much.

“Stiles, I want you. I want this, whatever it is, with you,” he said, trying to phrase what he knew was true in a way that would make sense to a human he had just met and not make him seem like some desperate loser. “I want this… so much. Way more than is reasonable.”

“And it kind of freaks me out that I know exactly what you mean. I really, really want it too. You. This, with you. More of this. A lot more. And it makes no sense for me to want it this bad, so soon, but I do anyway.”

Derek took another lungful of Stiles’ perfect scent.

Stiles said, “OK. Well, since we are _both_ obviously insane, there is no reason to panic, right?”

“No. No reason.”

Stiles still looked a bit wild, but he had obviously decided to go with the flow. “Not panicking here. Everything’s cool. Just some crazy attraction, awesome sex and quiet thrill. Yeah.”

Derek backed off a little and smiled at Stiles. “I think I may need a shower.”

Stiles chuckled, looking at their cum slathered chests. “Really?”

Derek leaned a bit and kissed his lips.

“Hmm…”

Fuck. He loved the way Stiles melted under him, opened to him, took everything he gave. And now there was tongue. And teeth. And yeah, it was… really good. 

Stiles hands were in his hair, and they were both panting a little, and Stiles said, sounding more than a bit surprised, “I think I’m actually going to want to fuck you now.” 

He made a disbelieving face and Derek had to chuckle.

Derek knew his stamina came from the wolf’s need to cement their mating bond, but he had no clue how Stiles could be hardening so soon again, yet he felt his nascent hard on against his hip. The man was 27, not 18 for fuck’s sake. 

But the thought of Stiles _inside of him_ made him giddy with want, and he could only say, “Fuck yes. That.”

Stiles rolled him over on his stomach like he weight nothing, and opened him up, slowly, lovingly, lying on him, licking his skin and playing with his hair.

When he pushed in, he didn’t bother with a condom either and it turned out the night before was no fluke. Derek loved getting fucked by Stiles, loved Stiles’ cock up his ass, Stiles’ breath in his neck, Stiles tracing the triskele tattoo with kisses, then Stiles pulling him up, holding his hips and fucking the hell out of him, Stiles biting at the junction of his neck and shoulder until they came, easily, together.

Derek was completely thrown, because his wolf had always had a dominant streak, had only ever bowed down to three Alphas, his mother’s, his sister’s, and Scott’s, and with the last two it had been a conscious decision as much as a natural subjugation. 

Yet, he had been shoulders down and ass up as they fucked and now, and as they lay down in the afterglow, he stretched his neck out as Stiles kissed along the muscle and nuzzled his pulse point, licking and kissing the fragile skin over his artery. 

He rose on his elbow and took a turn, licking and biting lightly at Stiles neck, careful not to leave a tell-tale mark, and Stiles sighed voluptuously, loving it. Neither way felt strange. They both felt right.

Fuck. There was no doubt. It was done, they were mates, his wolf had chosen, bonded and settled already. He felt a dichotomy of guilt and elation, joy and fear. Was it fair to Stiles to have let the wolf get his way? Was it fair to himself? If he lost Stiles now, it would be a loss he would feel forever. 

Yet, even with all this concern going through his mind, he felt so good, so comfortable. They dozed off together, not even caring about the sweat, the spit and the cum on their skin. And waking up slowly, it felt so fucking right, Stiles’s body next to his, Stiles’s scent all around, so intimately mingled with his.

Stiles turned to him and smiled, then got up and stretched and asked Derek, “Join me in the shower?”

If he did, Derek knew the cat would be out of the bag. He would either use Stiles’s soap and smell like ivory, or not and smell like Stiles’s pheromones. Either way, there would be no hiding this from the wolves in the pack.

“How do you feel about the other’s finding out?” he asked Stiles. He didn’t care. Stiles was his mate. The pack would find out eventually, but he didn’t want to rush Stiles.

“Uh… Not sure? I don’t want them to think I…” Stiles was rubbing his hand through his hair, frowning. “I don’t know. Do you mind holding off for a while?”

“It’s fine. We don’t have to say anything.”

“It’s not that I…” Stiles looked like he was afraid to have hurt Derek’s feelings, which was silly. They’d known each other, like, seventeen hours.

“I know.” Derek smiled at him. “I kind of want to keep it to ourselves for a while, too,” he added, though in truth he didn’t care. He knew that the second the others found out, they would guess what his wolf had done, and it would be… awkward to explain. But, then again, too bad. It had felt right. It was a little strange to withhold something that major from his pack, but what made Stiles comfortable was the most important.

Stiles smiled at him. “Yeah. That’d be great.”

“Go shower. I’ll go shower at mine. Scott and Allison will be home soon.”

Stiles has no reason to understand while showering apart was a must if they wanted to keep their nascent relationship to themselves, but it must have made sense to him somehow because he grinned and headed for his bathroom. 

Derek picked up his clothes with the tips of his fingers and went back towards the house naked. He went around the back again, and again went up the tree in front of his window, climbing in that way. 

There was no way Scott would not catch the lingering smell of his and Stiles mixed musk if he walked through the house in his condition. He showered thoroughly again, dressed and headed for the forge.

By the time Scott and Allison drove in, he was hard at work and sweaty. Stiles had gone to the house with his laptop to get on the WIFI, and Derek had to work really hard not to grin like the happy fool he was.

.o0o.

Derek finished his work for the day. He walked back to the house, unlaced his work boots and went up to his room on his stocking feet. He rinsed off the sweat of a hard day at the forge in the shower. He often wore sweats and a simple t-shirt in the evening and he did not want to change that, though he picked a pair of thin sweats that hung low off his hips and a shirt that was a bit tight across the chest, and made his eyes look green.

He accepted his desire to look appealing, to feel desirable as the need of his wolf to please his mate.

He went back down to the family room, where Allison already sat in her wheel chair, knitting. Her water bottle was almost empty. As he went to the kitchen to get himself some cranberry juice, he refilled it with some Evian and a twist of lemon. On the way back, he handed it to her. She took a long drink, and smiled at him.

At lunch, she had shared the latest news from Deaton with Stiles and Derek. The fetus was on the larger side, healthy and active. Its development was right where they expected it to be, and all was well. She looked so happy, though she joked that she could not imagine getting even bigger than she already was.

Stiles’s excitement at seeing the ultrasound photo had been completely genuine and he had had a lot of questions she had been more than happy to answer. She’d asked him if he would like to feel the baby, and he had looked like a kid on Christmas morning. 

When he’d felt the little foot or elbow or whatever connect with his hand through Allison’s skin, he had laughed out loud and asked Derek, “Oh, my god! Isn’t this amazing?” 

Then, all three of them had seen her soft skin actually move as the fetus resettled itself in its tight quarters and Stiles had said, his voice full of wonder, “This is so cool. Allison, this is the coolest thing _ever_!”

She had laughed with him, the thrill of expecting made new again by his reaction, and Derek had wanted to kiss him so badly he’d had to bite his lips.

Derek picked up the local newspaper, smiling at the memory, and sat in his usual chair.

After a while, Lydia came in, got herself a magazine and an apple, and sat with them. When Carter and Charlotte arrived home from work, they greeted everyone but quickly settled down, Carter next to his wife, his hand resting on the back of her neck, while he read something for work, and Charlotte getting her laptop out of her school bag to start her homework. Derek loved those peaceful moments of companionable silence.

Breaking the quiet mood, Russ walked in from the foyer, smiling and exuberant, like a man with a nice endorphin buzz going. “Hellooo everyone!” and let himself drop on the couch next to Lydia, who was leafing through the latest Vogue.

“Ew, Russ!” she griped, sliding away from him a little. “Sitting next to you feels like being in Florida in July.”

He laughed, leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Gross!” she squealed, wiping his sweat off her skin. She slapped his thigh, but was smiling. Russ was her boy.

Russ took a deep breath and let it out. “I’m wiped. Shit! Stiles can really run!”

“Language!” said Lydia, automatically.

Russ rolled his eyes. “Gee, _Mom_ , I’m eighteen. I think it’s ok for me to say ‘shit’.”

“Were did you go?” asked Carter, looking up from his work related stuff.

“We started on the wide path, east of the preserve? I figured I’d let him set the pace, you know? Well, his pace is the same as mine. So we ran full on for like, thirty minutes, and then I thought I’d mix it up, and I took him on the traverse path, with the hills, jumping over the tree trunks, running across the creek. Didn’t slow him down anymore than it does me. He loved it actually. We had a great time.  
“Then, we followed the fitness circuit, with the stations for abs, and pull-ups and stretches. He does one handed push ups, and he’s like a pretzel. When we got back to the head of the driveway, he said, “Race to the circle?” and just took off. I had a hell of a time catching up. I’d have had to wolf out to beat him. He’s in better shape than the guys on my Lacrosse team last year, and we all ran track in the off season…”

“That’s impressive,” said Carter.

“Yeah. They obviously took that sh… stuff seriously in whatever branch of the service he was.”

Lydia smiled at him, and he blew her a kiss.

“You should go shower,” said Allison, who’d been listening while knitting the whole time.

“Wow. I must really stink if even _you_ can smell me!” Russ said, getting up and walking to the stairs.

She laughed. “You don’t stink! I’m just hungry, and I know you like to shower before dinner, and we’re eating as soon as Scott gets home.”

“He does too stink,” muttered Charlotte who’d been working on her laptop the whole time.

The scent of Ivory soap preceded Stiles entrance into the room. Derek, who’d been reading the paper, looked up and couldn’t help but check out how nicely Stiles perfect ass filled his jeans. Stiles was also wearing a long sleeve T that showed off his broad shoulders. It was a bit short in the arms, his wrists and part of his forearm left uncovered. 

Lean muscle, short dark hairs, the prominent veins of someone who worked out with weights, elegant but strong looking hands, long fingers, _three of which had, that very morning, been up Derek’s ass…_

Derek looked away, grinning inside, feeling giddy with all kinds of good feelings.

“Wow!” said Stiles, dropping on the couch in the exact spot Russ had just vacated. “Can that boy run! I wish I’d been in that good a shape right out of high school. I’m starting to think Lacrosse might be worth checking into.”

“Russ is very dedicated,” said Allison, smiling at him.

“Obsessed, you mean,” mumbled Charlotte without looking up. She saved her work, closed her laptop and looked at Stiles. “Russ and his best friend get together to work on their passes and shots sometimes. You should go with him and check it out.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude on their bro-time,” said Stiles.

“Actually, Trev invited me to come and watch,” said Charlotte, “and unless I have the excuse that I am accompanying you, Russ will never let me hear the end of it. You would be doing me a favor.” She batted her eyelashes at him.

Stiles cracked up. “I see. So “Trev” is not _just_ Russ best friend, I take it?”

She smiled innocently. “He is, so far… Well, that, and captain of the Lacrosse team, and everybody’s favorite person, and a total hottie.”

“I seeee...”

Charlotte giggled and added, “They both are really good though. It _is_ actually fun to watch…”

“Do you lift, too?” asked Carter, a bit out of nowhere. “We have a gym in the basement.”

“Yeah, I do, occasionally. Do you have a bag?” asked Stiles.

“We do. And a large matted area. The ladies do yoga, and we like to wrestle around sometimes…”

“Any of you do martial arts?”

“…No, not as such.”

Stiles shrugged. “I’ll have to find a dojo in town then.”

“Karate?”

“Karate, taekwondo, jujitsu, hapkido, kickboxing, whatever… I’m not picky,” Stiles said dismissively, apparently thinking nothing of the fact that he should be well versed in all of them.

He asked the girls with a grin, “Could I do Yoga with you, or is it special girl time?”

Allison answered, smiling, “You are welcome to join us, both for the yoga and the special girl time.”

“You can help us rhapsodize about Taylor Kitsch’s ass and Taylor Lautner’s abs…” said Lydia, smirking.

Stiles cracked up. “Oh, yeah. I could definitely help with that. Lucas Till?”

“Telly Leung…” added Charlotte.

“Lucas Eberl, Dan Feuerriegel…” added Allison.

“Oh, yeah. Dan, let’s _not_ forget Dan,” agreed Lydia, nodding.

“Dan’s the man,” sighed Charlotte.

“Yep, he _is_ ,” agreed Stiles, smirking. “I can definitely rhapsodize about Dan.”

“What’s so special about Feuerriegel? I just don’t see it,” grumbled Carter, pouting.

Lydia patted his leg. “There, there, honey…”

“His eyes, Carter. [Dan Feuerriegel](https://gracerduncan.files.wordpress.com/2014/06/7tjpm.jpg) has really lovely _eyes_ ,” explained Allison. After looking at each other, the three women burst out laughing. “Anyway… Stiles? Saturday morning at nine, downstairs, and Wednesday afternoons, around four,” Allison added, helpfully.

“Sounds great,” said Stiles.

Derek could acknowledge that Dan Feuerriegel had a nice body. Big guy, though. Derek liked lanky and lean. He would rhapsodize about Stiles’s body any day. Their eyes met and Stiles smiled, a smile that said he would be glad to _show_ Derek just how he felt about Derek’s body. Derek looked back down at the paper with a grin.

“Hey, I hope it’s all right, I ordered a bunch of stuff online and had them delivered here,” said Stiles.

“What did you get?” asked Lydia.

“The new i-phone. A new battery for my laptop. Running shoes, work-out clothes, some books…”

“Real books?” asked Charlotte, surprised.

“Yeah. I like real books, especially to study. I like writing in the margins. I took a Basic Law Enforcement course online and passed the test, and I also did two weeks of active training with the MPs on base, something they offer for soldiers going into law enforcement after they leave the military, but still. I need to brush up on basic California law, and even on the California Driving code.”

“Scott said you met all the requirements already,” said Allison.

“Yes. But it never hurts to be on top of things, you know? I got a book on the psychology of interrogations. I guess Sodium pentothal is frowned upon by civilians…” joked Stiles.

“Their attorneys, especially,” said Carter, laughing. “Don’t worry, though. Apparently, Scott is really good at telling when suspects are lying. They say he has a gift.”

“Good to know. I guess I’d better not make up fake excuses to skive off work then,” joked Stiles.

As they heard the cruiser turn into the drive, the werewolves got up as one to start getting dinner on the table. Stiles turned inquiringly to Lydia.

“Uh… Did I miss something?”

“Oh. Hmm… Scott usually gets home around this time? I guess they’re hungry!” she explained rather lamely.

Stiles still looked a little puzzled, and Carter and Derek glanced at each other. That had been careless. Carter shrugged, and put the plates on, as Charlotte filled the glasses. Derek got the roast out of the oven, and the veggies from the warmer, and put them on the table. He got the salad and dressings out of the fridge, while charlotte got the silverware and Carter sliced some bread. By the time Scott walked in, everything was ready.

“Yeah! Dinner!” said Russ, coming down the stairs. “I’m famished!”

Scott laughed, after giving his wife a kiss. “You’re always famished!”

“I’m a growing boy! I need sustenance.”

Stiles laughed. “What’s my excuse, then?”

“You’re an old man and you had to work extra hard to keep up with me?” joked Russ.

“I _have_ been exerting myself…” answered Stiles, with a quick amused glance at Derek.

Derek could not help but hope that he and Stiles would exert themselves some more that evening. He could not seem to get enough of him.

They all sat down to dinner. Though at breakfast they sat wherever, at dinner Scott sat at the head of the table, with Allison to his left. Derek was his second, and usually sat to his right, though right now, Stiles being a guest and Scott’s best friend took precedence, which meant that he sat on Scott's right and Derek sat next to him. He had no complaints about that. 

Next to Allison was Carter, usually across from Lydia who sat on Derek’s right. Russ sat next to her, across from his sister. The table was very long, and could easily sit twice as many.

As usual, the beginning of the meal was quiet, as the food was good and everyone was hungry. Then the usual conversations began, everyone catching up.

The ultrasound pictures were passed around; Charlotte complained about her Chemistry teacher; Carter bitched and moaned about the Library’s board of trusties; and then Russ announced that his application to CSU, Chico for next September had been accepted. There were congratulations and smiles about that all around.

“Oh, Russ!” said Charlotte, a huge smile on her face, “That’s so awesome. I’m so happy for you. You deserve this, you know? You really do!”

Considering she usually pretended to be embarrassed to be related to him, it meant an awful lot.

“Thanks Shallot,” he answered, smiling. He only used her childhood nickname on special occasions, and she reached out and squeezed his hand. 

Until the Hale pack had taken him in, he had not had the easiest time in high school and his GPA had reflected it. However, he’d gotten straight As at the community college and had retaken his SATs, scoring an honorable 1983. Since he had expected having to spend two years at the community college, he was really happy.

Russ also announced he was planning to attend a week of Lacrosse pre-season training the last week of August, hoping to make the university’s team. He would not be eligible for an Athletic scholarship until the next year though, and was already applying for financial aid.

Derek gave Scott a significant look. Scott nodded and smiled, then told Russ, “We don’t want you to start your professional life in debt. You keep your grades up and get a part time job for pocket money, and we’ll cover your tuition and board.”

“You will? Oh, my god, that’s so awesome! But are you sure though? It’s over twenty grand! You don’t…”

“ _Russell_ ,” Scott interrupted. “Work hard, come home at least every other weekend in the off-season, and make us proud, OK?”

“Wow. Thank you Alph… Scott. I will.”

Derek had _a lot_ of money in the bank. He was the last of the Hales, and had inherited the sum total of his extended family’s non-negligible fortune and assets, including the trust funds of his brothers, sisters and cousins. He had also been, by default, the beneficiary of fifteen life insurances, ranging from 100,000 dollars for the youngest of his cousins to 3,000,000 dollars for his father.

All of it was in long-term investments he never intended to touch, but the yearly interests alone made him a very wealthy man indeed. He donated a lot of it to different charities, paid the entirety of the pack members state and federal income taxes, and put the rest of it at Scott’s disposal, to be spent as best benefited the pack. Financing Russell’s education was a perfect example of what he considered money well spent.

Personally, he lived entirely on the money he earned from the forge, the maintenance of his 2010 Camaro being his only true indulgence.

He noticed Stiles’s look of warm approval at Scott’s words. He must have felt Derek’s eyes on him, because he looked up and gave him a smile. Then, after a quick check around the table to make sure he was unobserved, he raised his eyebrows at Derek and mouthed “Later?”. Derek nodded and took a drink to hide his irrepressible grin. Stiles winked at him, grinning too, before innocently asking Carter to pass the veggies.

Derek felt ridiculously happy.

.o0o.

It seemed that Stiles loved being with Derek as much as Derek loved to be with him. It was hard to keep it discreet, especially since Stiles had no clue how their fucking left an obvious olfactory trail. Thank god there was always someone at the house, so there were only a few occasions when it had been possible for them to get together other than at bedtime, decreasing the chances that Stiles would figure out that in such cases, Derek was insistent on their need to shower before people got home.

Twice, on such an occasion, Derek had come all over Stiles face. First of all, he loved doing it. He couldn’t mark him in the flesh, but coming all over him satisfied the same urge. And second, it forced Stiles to shower before rejoining polite company without Derek having to suggest it. All the other times, Derek had made sure that their fucking had been _highly_ athletic, leaving them both covered in sweat, again forcing Stiles to shower.

At dinner, their eyes would always meet at some point. Derek would raised his eyebrows and Stiles would give a tiny nod and then look away with a little smile, which brought Derek over to Stiles’ room any night when Stile was not on the evening shift. And it was more than just sex. Not that the sex wasn’t awesome and plentiful, man! Was it ever, but they talked, too.

Everything they shared felt significant, made more precious by how reticent they were.

Stiles spoke about his time in the military, but he never mentioned any particulars. He described the kind of training he’d had, the special skills he’d learn. He had been the only gay man out of a twenty-four men unit. They had been tight, their lives often resting in each other’s hands. But outside missions, R&R had mostly been about sex, and while the others hung out in groups, he’d been on his own. He actually thought it made it easier now for him to move on with his life.

Derek, by nature, was reserved. His life experiences had made him more so still. Even in the close-knit group of their cobbled together family, he’d been the quiet one, the odd man out.

Now, they had found each other, and though their pasts were wildly different, it only seemed to increase how well they understood each other.

Stiles was funny without even trying. His mind was everywhere and his mouth right behind it. He was at ease with who he was.

Derek was not humorless. He just was never sure that what amused him was worth sharing. He liked to think things through from every direction, and it was his nature to keep his thoughts to himself. He felt awkward outside his comfort zone.

Somehow, what made them so opposite seemed to draw them to each other. Derek was falling in love, hard and fast, but it didn’t scare him, because he would have had to be an idiot not to realize Stiles was falling for him just as hard. Amongst their repeated enjoyment of their explosive sexual chemistry, one could not have described the intimate and deeply emotional way they sometime came together as anything other than making love. He was coming to the conclusion that his wolf had been right from the start.

The best part of all was how well Stiles seem to fit with the other members of the pack, how he seemed to relish his time with them as much as they enjoyed being around him.

He helped Charlotte with her math and chemistry homework, ran with Russ, played video games with Carter and Scott, read the New York times with Lydia, ( _finally_ giving her someone with whom to discuss things _intelligently_ …) and, once he found out about Allison’s passion for archery, went to shoot with her. She said he was as good as she was, but he insisted she was better.

“What other weapons do you know how to use?” asked Russell one evening at dinner, after watching one of Stiles and Allison’s training session.

“Hm…Quite a few. Why?”

“I’ve always wanted to learn to throw knives,” admitted Russell.

“I could teach you,” said Stiles. “Perhaps you can talk Derek into forging you some throwing knives. They are pretty simple. They only need to be balanced and sharp.”

“Would you?” Russell asked Derek.

Stiles passed Derek his phone which showed the image of a [throwing knife](http://wandering-mage.deviantart.com/art/Forged-Throwing-Knife-124983575) he had just googled. It was a simple, flame shaped flat blade, sharpened at the tip. Easy peasy. 

“Sure, I’ll make you a set,” agreed Derek. 

The next morning, it took him two and a half hours to make three sets of six. When he showed the blades to Russ after he and Stiles came back from their run, Derek tried not to show the pride and pleasure he felt when Stiles, looking genuinely impressed, commented on how perfectly balanced they were. 

The whole pack went out to Allison’s range after dinner, and used one of her straw targets to try them out. Stiles showed them several techniques: throwing from the point, throwing from the handles, throwing with or without spins, throwing from a lowered arm, or over the shoulder. He excelled at them all. They all gave it a go, even Lydia, though she kinda sucked at it, actually sinking the knives only half the time.

Allison had thrown knives before, but her skills were rusty. She was pretty accurate at close range, preferring to throw over the shoulder without spin. All the others could (no big surprise there) throw from quite a distance and still hit the target, however they sometimes hit it with the handle and overall, their aim wasn’t that great. 

Though he was impressed by how far they could throw, Stiles could throw further, but with deadly accuracy. He was also able to throw several knives in a row incredibly fast, having them hit the target in a very tight grouping. It was amazing to watch.

“It all comes down to practice, Russ,” he said, shrugging off their admiring comments. “Do it enough, and you’ll be just as good. The distance is what’s hard to achieve, and all of you guys have got that down already. Must be from Lacrosse.”

Nobody mentioned that neither Derek, Charlotte nor Carter had ever played…

“Is it worthwhile? Did you… I mean… Is it a skill you’ve found… useful?” asked Russ, trying to be diplomatic.

“It has its uses,” answered Stiles, “but it’s problematic. A: You can only carry so many knives, and B: If you don’t put your target out of commission, you’ve just given them a weapon, one they might throw right back at you… So, you know…”

“It’s like the bow, then,” said Allison. “Quiet and deadly, but you can only carry so many arrows, and you provide others with sharp pointy things they can turn against you. These knives are less cumbersome than a bow, though.”

“Yeah, but a bow has a much greater range. Plus you can use explosive arrows, incendiary ones… The bow is just a much more versatile weapon. To be honest, to carry ‘just in case’, I’d pick a slingshot over both knives and bow. It’s small and versatile. As ammunition, metal marbles are best, and they fit anywhere. But if you run out, you can use rocks, bullet casings, whatever. You can even kill someone with a chunk of ice. Then, poof, it melts. No murder weapon!” He noticed Charlotte’s kind of horrified expression, so he added quickly, with a reassuring smile, “I’m not talking from experience, of course, just thinking out loud.”

…And they might actually have bought it, had not the wolves among them all heard the tell-tale stutter in his heartbeat… It might have given Derek pause, but hell, who was he to judge? He’d torn Kali’s throat out _with his teeth_ …

.o0o.

After a week, it felt as if Stiles had always been with them. One night, Stiles missed dinner because he was on the evening shift and they actually talked about how comfortable they were with him around.

“He even smells like pack. How does he smell like pack?” asked Carter.

“Well, he’s been here a week,” remarked Allison, logically.

“No! You don’t understand. He’s always smelled like pack. From the very first night,” Carter explained. “Remember how he snuck up on us? He uses the same soap as Scott, and smells of leather like Derek, from his jacket, and now, obviously, his clothes smell like ours. But it’s his own base, intrinsic scent. It blends. He smells a bit like all of us, not just our stuff, but ourselves. It’s very strange.”

“Really?” asked Lydia, puzzled.

“Totally,” said Scott. “To me, he also feels like pack. I think that’s because we grew up in each other’s pockets. He gets my jokes, he knows our town, his dad was the sheriff, so we played together in _my_ office as kids…”

“Yeah. To me too. He knows all the bands I listen to, he gets all my references to the nerdy shows I like…” added Russell.

“He knows how to listen. There’s a natural sweetness about him,” said Allison. She grinned. “And he makes me laugh.” 

“And he is just as smart as I remember… So, so sharp,” added Lydia. “Very quick on the uptake.”

“No kidding,” said Scott. “He laughed at our network security system when he started and hacked right into it to show us how easy it was to do. Then, he wrote and programmed in a new system. I called our FBI liaison, and asked him to check it. Even his pals at Quantico couldn’t hack in.”

“And he is a good teacher," Charlotte put in. "I got an A on my last chemistry test. Couldn’t have done it without him.” She grinned. “And he gives excellent advice”.

“He _is_ very nice to talk to. Interested in everything, open, funny. Good company,” added Carter.

Derek smiled inwardly. It sounded like they were all thinking of keeping Stiles around, perhaps of telling him not to bother finding a place. Stiles had not talked about how his search for living quarters was going. On the other hand, he had mentioned several times to Derek how much he liked it here… The full moon was in ten days, though. If he stayed, it would be essential to tell him about werewolves before that. Derek definitely wanted to. He didn’t want to keep such a big secret from the man he felt was… well, hell, from his mate.

.o0o.

It was Stiles second evening shift in a row, so they had not gotten together the night before. Then, today, they’d been cocked blocked by Allison, of all people, asking Stiles to try and put the crib together. Since he’d done it in record time (reading the instructions in _Korean_!), she’d pointed, with a pleading look on her face, to the boxes containing the fancy Scandinavian highchair and the special nursing rocking chair and rocking footrest she had stored in the closet because they, too, indicated some assembly was required.

After putting those together, Stiles had ended up also hanging the curtains and placing the Jungle book decals around the nursery, mounting the child safety gate at the foot of the stairs and placing magnetic locks on the kitchen, laundry and downstairs bathrooms’ cabinets. 

Allison was thrilled, which was great, and the nursery looked awesome, but now Derek and Stiles hadn’t fucked for forty-one hours (not that Derek was counting) and that was just not on.

So at nine o’clock, with Carter, Lydia and Charlotte still watching "Hogwarts", the TV version of Harry Potter (which was in season three) in the media room, he snuck out of his window like some teenager and went up to Stiles room, to wait for him, which was way more of a thrill than it owe to have been. He was chuckling to himself as he made good his caper, with no one the wiser.

He decided he might as well go all out and really surprise Stiles by getting naked and waiting for him in bed. He had about an hour to kill before Stiles got home. Stiles had a book from the Beacon Hills library opened face down on the night table, but it turned out to be something called “L’arrache Coeur” by Boris Vian and it was in French, which, yeah… not helpful.

Stiles had three more books on the shelf below. A thin one, which looked as if it had been read many times, and had annotations in the margins, was obviously Stiles own. It also happened to be written in Arabic, as far as Derek could tell. How many languages _did_ Stiles speak? The next one was from the library and was one of Derek’s favorites: “To Kill a Mockingbird”. That might do.

The last one was… a spy novel? Something called “The Agency”. Derek opened it randomly and started reading and holy shit! It was gay porn. He opened the book on another page, and yes, it read a bit like a James Bond novel, but one where Q and James had a much, much closer relationship than in the Ian Fleming version. Hmm. Derek lay back on the bed and started at the beginning.

After a while, he looked at the clock. He had been looking forward to Stiles coming home _before_ he’d started reading, but now, after all that porn, he was just getting really desperate. And Stiles would not get back for another twenty minutes…

He put away the book, because however hot it was, thinking of Stiles was hotter still. He reached under the pillow for the bottle of lube and decided that if surprising Stiles was good, and surprising him naked was better, surprising him naked, hard, opened and lubed would be absolutely perfect.

Though both of them were evidently versatile, Stiles bottomed more often than Derek did. For one thing, he was able to relax open easily, with almost no prep. A good rimming would do it, and Derek could not see Stiles naked and smell his musk without wanting to eat his ass, which Stiles _never_ objected to, and which led to Stiles begging to be fucked, which _Derek_ never objected to… So, yeah.

Another reason was that Stiles just plain loved being fucked. He always came first, and most of the time, came completely untouched. He’d mentioned, the fourth or fifth time it had happened, that he’d never done so _before_ , something Derek had to work hard not to preen about like a fucking peacock.

Finally, Stiles was _limber_. With Derek on top, they could easily fuck face to face, which they both loved. They could kiss the entire time, Stiles not in the least bothered by being bend in half, or by having Derek press his wide opened knees into the mattress. Derek strongly suspected Stiles could do the splits _both ways._

Nevertheless, Derek had to admit that having Stiles inside him was something he loved. Stiles hands on his hips (or one of them on the headboard and one pressing him down into the mattress) made him feel owned, taken, in the most erotic way. Stiles lying fully on Derek’s back, kissing his neck and shoulder, made him feel cherished, worshiped.

Stiles, on top of him, holding his wrists in one hand, sucking hard at the center of the triskele, and fisting Derek’s cock as he fucked him had made Derek come the hardest he’d ever had, had made him _pass out_.

Having been fucking himself with three of his fingers for a while, Derek was never so happy as when he heard the cruiser turn from the road into the driveway. His first thought was to attack Stiles at the door and just rip his clothes off, but Stiles did carry two loaded guns and other paraphernalia it might be more prudent to remove in a deliberate fashion. Also, the man had just worked for nine hours. He might enjoy a gentler approach.

Derek decided the best way would be to let him set the pace, so when Stiles came into view of the house, Derek was lying in bed on his stomach in the dark, the comforter to his waist, faking sleep. The car pulled into the circle and the door to the cruiser was closed gently, so as not to wake up Allison who was usually asleep by now. Then… nothing. Stiles always moved incredibly quietly, but had Derek not been a werewolf, he would not have heard him come up the stairs at all. 

He felt the air movement when the door opened suddenly, on (suspiciously) well oiled hinges, the beam of a flash light illuminating the room. After a second, there was a huff of quiet laughter as the _magazine_ was ejected from a _gun_ , then a _bullet_ removed from the _chamber_. Derek had heard Scott empty his side arm often enough to recognize the sounds. He realized that, in this case, two seconds before, the gun had probably been pointed at his head. Hmm.

He made a note to himself to remember that surprising Stiles was a _very bad idea_. First of all, he’d not been surprised at all. His stealthy and sudden arrival pointed clearly to the fact that he had _somehow_ known someone was in his room. Secondly, even with Stiles excellent reflexes, and Derek’s healing powers, accidents might still happen…

The door to the room closed quietly, the lamp by the door was lit and there was the sound of Stiles removing his jacket, his belt, his boots, then his clothes. The smell of ‘outside’ and ‘others’ went away, and the smell of their laundry detergent, ivory soap, and Stiles filled the room. Then as Stiles approached the bed, there was the smells of Stiles clean sweat, and spearmint gum, and Stiles’ evening musk, and it smelled good. 

The comforter was gently pulled off the bed, uncovering Derek completely, and Stiles just stilled. Derek imagined he could feel Stiles’ eyes roaming over his naked body. He felt Stiles’ warmth as he leaned over him… Then there was the sound of metal against metal, and Derek’s found himself handcuffed to the headboard. He cracked up.

“You were not asleep, you big faker,” said Stiles, kissing his nape.

“How did you know?” asked Derek, grinning, looking at him over his shoulder.

Stiles sat on the bed, and caressed the skin of Derek’s back in long strokes, the calluses scratching it pleasantly. “I’ve held you as you’ve slept. You breathe slower than most, about six breaths per minute. You were breathing faster than that. Also, your heart rate sped up when you realized I’d just been pointing a gun to your head.”

“You could hear my heart beat?” That threw Derek for a loop.

“What am I, a bat? Of course I couldn’t hear your heartbeat! But I could see the pulse point in your neck. Also, my books had moved. You’ve been reading my porn. And it’s _good_ porn. No-way could you read that porn after a couple of days without sex and fall asleep without jerking off first, and the room didn’t smell like cum.” 

Derek chuckled. “How observant of you.” He shook his bound wrists. “What are you going to do, Sherlock, now that I am at your mercy?”

“Not sure yet,” Stiles answered, leaning to kiss the skin he’d been caressing. He sat astride Derek’s thighs, and kissed his neck and shoulders, placing little bites here and there. It felt great. Derek was so hard. Stiles traced the tattoo with his tongue, which never failed to make Derek shiver, and licked down his spine. He moved down, kneeling between Derek’s thighs and brought his caresses and kisses to his lower back, then his ass.

“ _Derek_ …”

Derek smiled to himself. Stiles had noticed that his crack was shiny with lube and reached the right conclusion. It still came as a surprise when Stiles lay between his legs, up on his arms, and without any fuss, just pushed his dick into Derek’s ass, sliding in to the hilt in one go.

“Oh, yeah…” Stiles said, utter satisfaction in his tone. Derek’s body trembled as he adjusted to the sudden penetration. He hid his face in the pillow, embarrassed by the thrill he felt at being taken so casually, at feeling so _owned_. Stiles kissed behind his ear. “Thank you,” he said, softly. Then he slid his hands under Derek’s chest, holding him tight, and fucked him.

He went as deep as he could while holding himself pressed tightly to Derek’s back, pounding hard.

“It feels… good. You’re nice and tight and warm… and soft. Hmmm… Fucking you feels like a gift every time. So fucking… good. A privilege I don’t even know what I did to deserve. Oh, God… When I feel your body open for me, take me in like this… it feels like a reward, like I must have done something right in my life… to be allowed to do this, to do this to you.”

Derek closed his eyes. He loved the weight of Stiles body on his, his arms around him. He loved the warmth of his breath, the sound of his soft, quiet voice. He loved the idea of Stiles pleasuring himself inside him, loved hearing Stile’s heart rate speed up, his breath hitch as his pleasure grew. Derek’s hard dick was pushed deliciously tightly against the mattress. Each of Stiles’ slides inward started a pleasurable tingle just inside his ass, and each slide out came close enough to his prostate to create a pleasant warmth that soon would not be enough.

Stiles chortled. “I’m feeling sooo selfish. I just want to keep doing this… ‘till I can’t take anymore and just… just fucking come in your ass, your perfect, perfect… beautiful… ass.”

Derek arched his lower back the slightest amount, raising his ass just a little, and was rewarded when the head of Stiles cock milked his prostate _just right_ with each pass. He moaned in satisfaction.

“Does it feel good? Does my cock feel good inside your ass?”

“Yeah. I love it when you fuck me…” He could feel his face blush with that admission, as his pleasure bloomed greater which each stroke.

“Oh, fuck. Derek, I want to come. I want to come, then get off of you, then I want you to get on your knees, okay? Please…”

He loved the need in Stiles voice. “Whatever you want, Stiles, I’m all yours tonight… Are you close?”

“Yeah… so good inside you… so fucking perfect, so…” Stiles stopped and pulsed inside him, keening quietly, rocking slowly. Then, he quickly pulled out, begging, “Please…”

Derek brought his restrained hands up the vertical bar, and gripped the transverse rail of the headboard to bring himself to his knees as fast as he could, and Stiles spread his cheeks apart with his hands. “Oh, god! Oh, Derek…” Stiles sounded wrecked. “My cum is oozing out of you… It’s so fucking hot... But I want to… Of, fuck…” And Stiles warm wet mouth was on Derek’s hole, his hot tongue slipping inside repeatedly, pushing the cum back in, feeling …unbelievably good. 

Derek had never felt anything like this. Every time Stiles’s tongue slipped back out of him, he could feel his rim reflexively tighten, trying to hold on to the delicious wet warmth. He was rocked by the sensation, his mind blown that Stiles would do such a thing, the thought of what Stiles had been looking at, what had turned him on so much embarrassing and arousing at the same time. 

“It’s all back in,” Stiles finally announced, satisfied, “and it's gonna stay in," he gloated. "You’re nice and closed again, as tight as a drum.” He licked over Derek’s hole with a flat tongue. He was fucking purring, and Derek thought he would lose his mind with it.

“Mine,” said Stiles, “You’re fucking _mine_.”

Then he made his way under Derek’s body, between his legs, on his back, until Derek was straddling his chest. Stiles reached under the pillow for the lube, sleeked his hand and started jerking Derek off. Their eyes met, and Stiles’s expression was wide open, both commanding and begging. There was so much there: need, arousal, fear, desire, awe, shame, eagerness and disbelief, and… love, maybe. Derek came much quicker than he’d expected, his body shaking, loving the way his cum splattered Stiles neck and chin even as Stiles manage to catch most of it in his mouth. Derek was out of breath though he’d done nothing to justify it.

A click and his hands were out of the cuffs and Stiles was pulling him down to him. Derek knew, somehow, that Stiles needed reassurance. He wrapped his arms around Stiles’s body, holding him tightly, whispering to him, “Hey, it’s all good, I’ve got you…”

Stiles’s heart was beating frantically in his chest, his body trembling. His face was hidden in Derek’s neck. “Was that too weird? I’ve never… I just wanted to keep it in. I’m…”

“Shhh. It’s all good, Stiles. Relax. I’m glad you didn’t hold back. It was amazing. You’re amazing.” He chuckled. “Remember that first night? I had my tongue in your ass five minutes into it. Believe me when I say it’s not something I’d ever done outside of a shower stall. You have no idea the shit I’ve fantasized about doing to you. It’s fine. It’s us. You drive me fucking wild, you know?”

He could hear Stiles’s smile in his voice. “Yeah… I know. I think I just showed you exactly how wild you drive me.” He chuckled too. “I’m so glad you’re here. I was thinking of climbing that tree and sneaking into your room driving home, I wanted to be with you so bad.”

Both their bodies were relaxing, tension leaving their muscles, both of them enjoying the warmth, the closeness of the hug. Derek did not want to go home. He wanted to sleep with Stiles in his arms. They did need to move though, or end up sticking together.

Stiles asked, “Shower with me?” And that sounded really good.

It was a nice shower. Derek loved running his soapy hands all over Stiles body. He discovered a new scar, on the outside of his right thigh, wide and jagged but didn’t ask about it. He knew Stiles had become self-conscious about them. They kissed for a while, under the hot spray, and then dried themselves kind of leaning on each other, which was impractical yet enjoyable.

“Stay?” asked Stiles. Derek smiled. He set the alarm for five, and spooned Stiles tightly, nuzzling his nape.

“Never slept with anyone…” said Stiles, half asleep already. Derek had, a few times. The mornings after had always been awkward. He smiled, knowing there would be nothing awkward about waking up with Stiles.

 

TBC


End file.
